


Gonna Take You Downtown (Woah, wait! Why are you hitting me? I'm trying to ask you out, you asshole!)

by contemplativepancakes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wrestling, Dean/Cas Big Bang (Supernatural), Dean/Cas Big Bang 2020 (Supernatural), Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Secret Relationship, Uncle! Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contemplativepancakes/pseuds/contemplativepancakes
Summary: “The brother thing isn’t really working anymore,” Crowley says, folding his hands on top of the table. “It’s a tired schtick, and we need new tag team champions to ignite interest in Wrestle Mania.”Dean exchanges a shocked look with Sam, but Crowley plows on, “That’s why I got you a new partner, Dean. His name is Castiel.”Dean hasn’t even met the guy, and he already can’t stand him. What could go wrong?
Relationships: (background), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 67
Kudos: 170
Collections: DCBB 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. is dumbass disease contagious?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 dcbb! This is about wrestling, but no knowledge is necessary. I’ll make sure to explain any terms that might be wrestling-centric in the notes, but they should be fairly evident in context.
> 
> Thank you to [DarcyDelaney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyDelaney/pseuds/DarcyDelaney) for betaing and making this story approximately 10,000x better, and of course, allowing me to shout about wrestling to you! That goes for [xxenjoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy), as well. I have been yelling at her about how ridiculous the WWE is for months. Thank you both <3
> 
> Shout out to the DCBB mods for running such a great challenge! And a final thank you to [nickelkeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelkeep/pseuds/nickelkeep) for their lovely lovely art!!! Check out their tumblr [here](https://nickelkeep.tumblr.com/), and their art post [here.](https://nickelkeep.tumblr.com/post/634582731063427072/dcbb-art-masterpost)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS, for this chapter, TLC= table, ladder, and chairs match. Basically, anything goes and you can whack your opponent with any of the listed or climb up on top of them to do something crazy

“The brother thing isn’t really working anymore,” Crowley says, folding his hands on top of the table. “It’s a tired schtick, and we need new tag team champions to ignite interest in Wrestle Mania.”

Dean looks over at Sam in disbelief. Can he believe this guy? _Tired schtick?_ he mouths, and Sam gives him a weak grin.

“That’s why I got you a new partner, Dean.”

“What? No, you can’t…” Dean protests, but Crowley keeps talking over him.

“Yes. You two are going to lose the title match at Wrestle Mania, and Sam is going to get injured badly enough that he can’t go with you on your little revenge vendetta.”

“Well, why don’t I just go solo, then? You can’t replace Sam! There’s no way the fans are going to be on board with this. Isn’t our brotherly bond like, a thing, or something?”

“It is, but it’s run its course. That’s why Sam is going to give you his full support during his recovery. Plenty of interviews and face time for Sammy here, don’t you worry your pretty little head. The fans are going to love it, because I’ve found you the perfect man.” Crowley grins lecherously.

Dean rolls his eyes at Crowley’s idea of a joke. “You can start planning the wedding now, I think I hear the bells.”

“Hmm. How many viewers do you think we could pull in with that?”

“White really does bring out Dean’s complexion,” Sam muses. 

Dean elbows Sam and glares at him, but Crowley moves on, heedless of Dean still spluttering about his new partner. “Well, that’s all I needed from you gentlemen today. Dean, I’ll get a meet and greet set up for you, and Sam, your injury is going to be your left knee, so start taping that up when you wrestle. We have to give the fans some foreshadowing, after all. Enjoy your last few months as the dream team.”

Dean and Sam turn to leave, but Dean stops. “Wait. Who’s beating us at Wrestle Mania?”

“Lucifer and Michael,” Crowley answers, the look in his eyes daring Dean to disagree.

“Shit, really? You know I hate wrestling them. I always feel like they’re on the verge of bad touching me.”

“Yes, well, the fans think you’re avoiding them. And they’re right, so as you would say, you need to stow your crap. Be grateful I’m giving you a few months to come to terms with the idea.”

Dean makes a face at Crowley’s warped sense of generosity, and they slowly rise from Crowley’s uncomfortably straight backed chairs and leave his office. Dean grouses to Sam as they walk down the hall. “They can’t just replace you! I can’t believe this, man.”

Sam shrugs. “Eileen’s due in a few months. As far as I’m concerned, I’m glad. I want to have time with my son.”

Dean turns to gape at him. “Are you serious? Did you already talk to Crowley about this?”

“I may have hinted at it.”

“What the fuck, Sam? You really didn’t want to wrestle with me anymore?”

Sam sighs. “Look, Dean. This isn’t about you, okay? You know I love what we do. I just don’t want to end up like John.”

Dean sets his jaw. He hates when Sam calls their dad by his first name. He still remembers the first time Sam said it to their dad’s face—the night he left to go to college, leaving Dean alone and lurching in the wind. “What was so wrong with Dad?”

“I don’t know why you still insist on defending him, but he wasn’t a good parent, Dean. He dragged us around all over the place. He wasn’t exactly a role model.”

“Well, we turned out okay, didn’t we?”

Their dad had raised them to follow in his wrestling footsteps, and Sam’s resented it their whole lives. “Dean, the doctor told you you’re going to have to get back surgery before you’re 35 if you keep it up. Is that really such a good life?”

“I never should have told you that,” Dean grumbles.

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. He’s already monopolized enough of our lives. Just give your new partner a chance before you decide to hate him, all right?”

\- 

Dean can’t stand him. Loathes him, even— _Castiel_ , as he insists on Dean calling him, even though Dean can barely pronounce it. Castiel comes to their lunch meet up wearing a button up and slacks. Who does that? It’s 95 degrees outside, and they’re not exactly having a business event. His shirt is rolled up, revealing bulging forearms, and it's unbuttoned enough that Dean catches a glimpse of his chest hair. Dean’s sure he’s just trying to show off.

He looks Dean up and down with a pinched expression, and Dean can only imagine the thoughts that must be going through his head about Dean’s ripped jeans and band t-shirt. “I like Jefferson Starship, if that helps,” Castiel offers, as he takes in Dean’s Nazareth shirt.

Dean tries to suppress his shudder and paste a pleasant expression onto his face. “Not really, man.”

“Like I said, I go by Castiel.”

Dean lets his grimace slip through the façade. If Castiel didn’t seem like he had a three foot pole wedged up his ass, Dean would think he was messing with him. “Sorry,” Dean says stiffly. 

The hostess leads them to their table, and Castiel turns back to Dean. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“I hate that question,” Dean grumbles. “Not much to tell, but let me think. Um, my dad was a wrestler, so me and my brother grew up ringside, got interested in it. Now I’m here.” Dean flaps his arms by his side and tries not to look as awkward as he feels.

Castiel hums, looking at Dean like he’s trying to strip him bare. Dean shifts in his seat uncomfortably, glancing up in relief when the waiter comes to take their order. Dean orders the unfortunate meal his trainer threatened him with death if he didn’t get and listens in envy as Castiel orders a bacon cheeseburger. He tries not to salivate. 

Castiel must see his longing look and mistake it for something else, because he rushes to explain, “I’m not on a strict diet yet. I’m just doing general conditioning, so I need to get all the cheeseburgers in now.”

“Man, I wish I could eat that. That’s the part that kills me the most about all this.” Dean pauses. “So, I told you about me. What about you? Why only conditioning?”

Castiel blushes, and Dean raises his eyebrows in interest. “I, uh, broke my leg. I was in a ladder match, and I climbed up, but I got ripped off and fell wrong. I was supposed to win that match, too.” Castiel frowns. 

Dean whistles and shakes his head. He hopes dumbass disease isn’t contagious. “That’s gnarly. Remind me to say no to any TLC match they want us to do. How long were you out of commission for?”

“Eight months.”

Dean blanches. “Fuck, dude.”

“Fuck, indeed. They wanted to make sure my leg was fully healed before I started putting any undue stress on it again. Now that I’ll be back in the ring, I’m hoping my brother will stop feeling the need to hover over me. I swear he thinks I’m going to starve. I’ve only had to call the fire department twice, though, so his concern seems unfounded to me.”

Dean snorts against his will. He wishes Castiel would go back to stiff and overly-formal; it would make hating him a lot easier. Dean’s in this to win it, though, and he can’t have his partner dragging him down and making them miss out on opportunities. “You ain’t exactly inspiring confidence, here.”

“My apologies. I’m sure I can change your mind once we get on the mat.” Castiel winks at him, and Dean’s face turns firetruck red.

He takes a gulp of his water and does his best not to choke on it. He can’t believe the nerve. 

-

Immediately after his lunch with Castiel, Dean sits in Baby and ruminates on his new partner. He turns the air conditioner on full blast before he pulls out his phone to text Crowley.

_He’s gonna fuck everything up. he fell off a ladder?? what kind of clumsy shit is that_

The response is immediate.

_Suck it up, buttercup. This is the new cash cow (:_

Dean sticks his tongue out at his phone.

):<

-

Dean stews over Castiel, ruining his weekend of relaxation and extending into the next week as he trains, making him even more cantankerous than normal. 

“I can’t believe Sam gets out of training. We still have three more matches!” Dean complains as he strains to finish his set of curls.

Benny hums. “I don’t think his muscles are gonna atrophy by then. Time for you to set your sights on your new partner.”

“Benny, he’s the worst. We got lunch, and he’s a prick,” Dean huffs as he sets the weight down on the rack. “He’s never gonna live up to Sam.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Benny says placatingly, and Dean shoves at him.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Uh-huh. Punching bag’s up next. Go wrap your hands.”

Dean glares at him but complies. “I’m serious! He said he broke his leg after he fell off a ladder! What if he does that in one of our matches?”

“It’d make for good television at the very least. Ratings would kick up a notch, for sure.” At Dean’s exasperated look, he asks, “What’d you say his name was?”

Benny watches as Dean winds the wrap over his wrist and knuckles. “Castiel. Don’t call him anything else or he’ll freak.” Dean rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to the punching bag.

Benny frowns. “I watched that match. Alastair threw him off the ladder way wrong. Wasn’t no way anyone was gonna land that and not get hurt. He’s lucky he’s back in commission at all.”

“Shit, really? Dirty fucker probably did it on purpose.” Dean hates Alastair and Azazel almost as much as Michael and Lucifer, and that’s really saying something.

He starts in on his punching bag. He feels slightly bad for thinking the worst about Castiel, but he’s so pompous that Dean doesn’t stay contrite for long. “That wasn’t the only thing, though. There’s more.”

“Whatever you say, Billy Mays.”

Dean scowls. 

-

Luckily, his bad mood doesn’t follow him into the ring. Before Dean knows it, it’s Friday night and the crowd is cheering around him. Dean feeds off of it, reveling in the adoration. He’s in his element here. He’s not sure how all the people that play villains do it, because his self esteem would certainly take a bruising from being booed at every time he walked to the ring. No, he likes it the way it is. Dean climbs over the ropes and walks to the center of the ring, looking around at the crowd. He squints to read a few of their signs. Most are positive, but he sees one that proclaims _LOSE-CHESTERS_ on it and frowns. He walks to Sam’s side, and they link hands as they raise their tag team championship belts.

“Highway to Hell” starts to blare, and Dean blinks at the entrance to the walkway. He has to look surprised, after all. The match of the night is supposed to be him and Sam wrestling Garth and Alfie, so it’s a surprise to the fans that Michael and Lucifer are walking out. Dean rolls his eyes, decidedly _not_ acting now. 

Michael and Lucifer are as big of dicks on stage as they are off, so Dean’s glad he and Sam don’t have to act like they’re in some kind of alliance with them. Dean supposes another perk to the job is that he’s gotten to deck them in the face on more than one occasion.

Lucifer brings the microphone up to his mouth as he and Michael approach the ring. “Look, it’s everyone’s least favorite brothers,” he says. 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you any self esteem?”

A sneer twists Lucifer’s mouth. “She did, actually. And that’s why we’re challenging you to a title match for the tag team championship.”

Dean scoffs as Sam steps forward. “And what have you done to earn that match? We don’t just give handouts around here.”

“Ask the last five teams we beat.” Michael crosses his arms over his chest. 

The crowd around them jeers and boos, likely because Michael and Lucifer had won said matches because they’re currently the second dirtiest team in the WWE. The catalyst to their win last week was Lucifer slamming a chair into Cesar’s side when the ref’s back was turned. Watching the impact had made even Dean wince. Dean turns and shares a contemplative look with Sam. “It’s up to you, Sammy.”

Sam turns and looks out at the audience. “What do you guys think?” he asks, raising his microphone over his head.

There’s a resounding cheer that sounds throughout the arena, and Sam shrugs. “Fine. We’ll see you at Wrestle Mania.”

Michael and Lucifer share satisfied grins with each other. “Glad we could make you see reason. Better ramp up your practice schedule right now, or there won’t even be a contest.” 

Dean scowls, hating that they’re going to have to lose to those dicks, but he’s doing it to Michael and Lucifer’s retreating backs, their song playing them out.

Almost as soon as they are out of view, The Killers begin to blare through the speakers, and Dean will never not be amused by Garth’s choice in song. Garth appears, trailed by Alfie. Alfie’s a relatively new addition to SmackDown, but as he walks to the ring, he sways to “Mr. Brightside” with the best of them.

Dean fights to hide his smile, because he has a reputation to uphold. At least he doesn’t have to lose this match. 

-

A month passes with Dean savoring all the remaining time he has left with Sam, trying to not be as much of a dick to Castiel as he desperately wants to be, texting Crowley intermittently about how they’re never going to be a good team, and fulfilling Eileen’s weird pregnancy cravings. He can’t count the number of times Sam has called him in a panic asking him to bake something or stop by the grocery store before coming over. He has perfected his apple pie, because Eileen has really taken to the sweet and salty combos during her pregnancy, being an absolute heathen who likes cheddar cheese on her pie. Dean knows the only acceptable topping is ice cream.

“You look like you’re going to burst any day now!” Dean exclaims as he opens their door and lets himself in, a stalk of celery and a can of frosting tucked under his arm.

Eileen glares at him and holds out her hands, looking at him expectantly. Dean gives her his offerings, and she walks to the kitchen and immediately peels open the can of frosting and grabs a spoon. Dean takes the celery and snaps off a stalk, rinsing it and giving it a little scrub at the sink before setting it back down for Eileen. Only the best for his nephew.

_Where’s Sam?_ Dean signs when Eileen finally looks up at him from her frosting.

Eileen rolls her eyes. “He’s double checking the hospital bag. I’m not due for another month!” she complains.

Dean leans against the counter and gives her an easy grin. “He comes from a family of worriers.”

Eileen gives him a wry look as she turns around to grab the salt shaker from the cupboard. “Thanks for that.”

When she turns back around, he asks, _How are you?_

“My back is killing me, and my ankles are swollen. I can’t wait to pop this baby out.”

Dean raises his eyebrows in alarm. “Do you want to sit down?”

Eileen brushes him off. “I’m giving my back the break right now. My back hurts when I sit, and my ankles hurt when I stand. I can’t win.”

Dean frowns in sympathy. “Anything I can do?”

Eileen takes a bite of her salted celery dipped in frosting as Dean tries to contain his shudder. “You already did.”

They stand there in comfortable silence until Sam appears. “I was worried you fell down the toilet,” Dean says, a grin tugging at his lips. 

Sam scowls at him. “Very funny.” He drags a hand down his face. “I’m just so worried. There’s so many things that could go wrong!”

Dean shares an exasperated look with Eileen. “Man, you’d think you were the pregnant one. If even I think you’re worrying too much, you’ve got a serious problem.”

Sam collapses on the couch. “I’ll just be glad when Wrestle Mania is over, and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Dean grimaces at the reminder that soon he isn’t going to have Sam by his side every week.

“I thought you were warming up to the new guy?” Sam asks when he sees Dean’s face.

“What gave you that impression? Warming up is a pretty strong word.”

“It’s really not, and it’s two words.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up. He’s a weird little guy, and besides, he’s just not you. I’m gonna miss our chemistry in the ring.”

“Have you been wearing a blindfold every time you’ve seen the guy?” Eileen asks. “I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with chemistry.” For good measure, she shoots him a wink, and Dean groans.

“How do you even know what he looks like?”

“Sam showed me.”

Of course he did. “Well, Jesse and Cesar already have the wrestling husbands thing on lockdown, so that spot’s already taken.”

“Now, who said anything about marriage?”

Dean buries his face in his hands before looking up so Eileen can read his lips. “I bring you your weird cravings and this is how you repay me?”

Eileen throws her head back and laughs, and Dean smiles begrudgingly. “I hate both of you.”

-

Dean’s bellyaching about Castiel persists into his next meeting with Crowley. For some reason, they have meetings every other week. Dean thinks it’s because Crowley wants him to suffer as much as possible. 

“So, how’s my little superstar doing this week?” Crowley asks, and that’s Dean’s cue.

“Well, I’d be better if I didn’t have to deal with Castiel.”

“You know, he doesn’t exactly think the sun shines out of your ass, either. You could stand to be a little nicer to the man.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like he has a problem with me if I go based off the number of emojis he sends me,” Dean grumbles. “Where’d you even find this guy?”

“Mars,” Crowley answers dryly. “I’m sure you two will hit it off once you actually start training together, and if not, well, just look forward to the eventual break up and grudge match.”

Dean lets himself be comforted by the thought.


	2. dean attempts to keep it in his pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ku2HtEMkaG4) is the sharpshooter, for your future reference to get a joke later. Revel in its ridiculousness with me, please.

Sam nudges Dean in the side, and Dean peels his eyes away from the screen, where he’d been watching Castiel’s match for the past three minutes. He has to know what he’s going to be working with, after all. “What?”

Sam shrugs innocently. “Nothing. Just, Castiel looks pretty good in those pants, don’t you think?”

“A nice ass doesn’t make up for his shit taste in music, Sam.”

Sam grins. “Ooh, I thought it was his bland personality, and now it’s his taste in music? Pretty soon you’ll be out of things to criticize about him.”

Dean scowls as he turns back to the screen. The blue highlights in Castiel’s spandex pants really do bring out his eyes, and his hair is all over the place from where Balthazar was tugging at it as he tried to pin Castiel. They trade punches, circling each other and looking for an opening. Dean winces as Balthazar lands a solid kick to Castiel’s torso, but Castiel catches the leg and yanks it, throwing Balthazar off balance and making him fall to the mat, landing with an _oof_ and a thud. 

Dean tries not to salivate as Castiel drops to the mat as well, his muscles rippling as he keeps Balthazar’s back on the mat. The ref slaps out a three count before the audience erupts with cheers.

Dean keeps watching as the ref comes over to hold Castiel’s hand over his head in victory, Balthazar still laying on the mat. Castiel smiles as he takes in the scene around him, waving his hand and nodding his head at his fans. Dean’s surprised he has so much of a following after being away for so long, but there’s a smattering of posters for Castiel in the crowd that indicate his popularity.

Castiel sticks out a hand to help Balthazar up, in a show of good sportsmanship that the fans eat up, and they make their way down the walkway to backstage. Dean jumps when Castiel disappears from the screen and reappears at his elbow.

“What did you think?”

Dean gulps, trying not to swallow his tongue. Castiel is shirtless, and the rivulets of sweat rolling down his chest make his muscles stand out even more. Castiel is impossibly more attractive in person than on the tiny screen. Dean desperately averts his eyes from the mole by Castiel’s nipple. “Um. Pretty good, I guess.”

Dean doesn’t have to look over to see the bitchface Sam shoots him. “You were great, Castiel. Dean’s really excited to start working with you.”

Castiel beams. “I’m glad to hear that; I’m looking forward to Monday, as well.”

Dean’s brain screeches to a halt. “What?”

“Um. We’re starting training together next week? Benny didn’t tell you?” Castiel frowns. “We discussed it at length.”

“He must have forgotten to mention it,” Dean grits out. He’s sure Benny was just trying to decrease the amount of time Dean was able to bitch and moan about it before Castiel got there.

Castiel hums, and gives Dean a little wave that has no right to be as adorable as it is before he walks away to his dressing room. Dean clenches his jaw as his thoughts wander about Castiel’s thick thighs. Again, he wishes Castiel gave him more ammo to dislike about him. Dean’s kind of grasping at straws here. At the very least, he could give Dean the common courtesy of being less attractive. 

Sam snorts with disgust. “Dude, I can, like, see your thoughts on your face. We still have a match. Keep it in your pants.”

Dean scowls and slugs Sam on the shoulder. 

-

Monday rolls around after a weekend of Dean being anxious about the change to his schedule, which just makes him even more annoyed at Castiel. Dean shouldn’t be attracted to people who get under his skin so much, period. It’s grossly unfair.

Dean voices this to Benny when he makes it to the gym early, and Benny looks back at him in wonder. “Brother, I had no idea you had it so bad. We should have started weeks ago if you’re going to be this difficult to work with.”

Dean crosses his arms. “I am not difficult to work with!”

Benny raises his eyebrows skeptically. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. The less time you had to think about this, the better off you were going to be. Look, I talked to Castiel’s old trainer, and Cain says he’s really laid back and easy to get along with. So if there’s a problem, that means that _you’re_ the problem.”

“I’m hurt.”

“You say that like it’s my job to care about your precious feelings or something. Go take a jog and get warmed up before Castiel gets here.”

“Benny, the fans don’t care if I do my cardio, they just care if I can still throw someone over the ropes. Don’t make me run, man.”

Benny gives him a grin, but it’s more a baring of teeth than anything else. “Take a lap, Winchester.”

Dean groans and resolves to jog extra slowly, just to annoy Benny, since Benny’s been doing a spectacular job of doing the same to him lately, but Benny isn’t even watching him. Dean sighs and focuses on the sound of his footfall pounding a rhythm onto the treadmill. He considers flipping on the tv screen built into the machine, but he’s already missed _Dr. Sexy_ this morning, so there’s really no point.

By the time Castiel shows up, Dean is gasping for breath, and he’s sure he makes a pretty picture with his red face and sweaty hair. Castiel, on the other hand, looks just as gorgeous as usual. _Jackass_. Maybe when they actually start training, he won’t be so unflappable. 

Dean slows down the treadmill to a walk, knowing Benny will rip his ass if he doesn’t do a cool down before he hops off to greet Castiel.

“Good morning, Dean.”

Dean looks at his watch pointedly. “Aren’t you a little late?”

Castiel’s face pinches as he looks at his own watch. “No? This is the time Benny told me to be here, correct?” he asks, turning to Benny.

“That’s right, Chief. Dean needed to get his run in before you got here. I just want to do some arms and work on some choreography with you today.”

Well, that’s patently unfair. “What the hell, Benny? I have to run and he doesn’t?”

“Well, unlike you, Castiel runs when he’s not forced to. Cain said you take a jog every day?”

Castiel shifts uncomfortably. “That’s right. I go for a run in the evenings before I eat supper. It helps me relax.”

Well, that does explain his amazing ass and thighs. Benny shoots Dean a smug look. “Seems like you could pick up a good habit or two from Castiel.”

Dean scowls. “Whatever. Wrestling isn’t about running. I bet I could outlift you any day of the week.”

Castiel grins while Benny looks on disapprovingly. “You’re on.”

Dean moves to the deadlift and puts the weights on the ends of the bar, piling them on until he’s at 550 pounds. He’s not the strongest wrestler by any means, but he can certainly hold his own, and he’s determined to show that to Castiel.

Dean stands right behind the bar and bends his knees, adjusting his grip so his hands are facing opposite ways. He slowly straightens up, trying not to clench his jaw too much or have bad form Benny will feel the need to correct. He’d combust if Benny did that in front of Castiel. Dean can imagine the self-satisfied look that would warrant him. 

When Dean’s fully standing up, he holds it for a good three count before lowering to drop the bar onto the ground. He looks at Castiel, who’s staring back at him, his mouth twisted in a challenge. “Good effort,” he says.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Castiel walks over to the bar and adds a 50 pound weight to each end. Dean tries not to let his jaw drop as Castiel takes his stance and begins to pick up the bar, with considerably less grunting than Dean had done. When Castiel drops his weight, Benny claps him on the back. “Nice. Now that we’re all done measuring our dicks, let’s get some reps in.”

“Good job,” Dean says begrudgingly. “You’re a lot stronger than you look.”

Castiel crosses his well muscled arms, and Dean thinks maybe suggesting Castiel doesn’t look strong is only for the sake of his own mental preservation at this point. He almost swallows his tongue as he thinks of what those arms would feel like bracketed against him.

Dean clears his throat. “Let’s get to it, then.”

They move onto the weight machines, and Benny leaves them to do their thing as he squints at his phone. Occasionally, he looks up to tell them to switch machines. By the time they’ve finished, just before lunch, Castiel’s finally broken a sweat. Dean takes smug satisfaction in the fact, even though his own shirt is damp and sticking to his back.

They sit down together to eat, and Dean stares forlornly at his lunch. He used to love eggs and took special pleasure in making omelets on Sunday mornings, but ever since he started with the WWE, and they began practically shoving eggs down his throat, he can barely stand the sight of them. He swears Benny would have started cracking raw eggs into his protein shakes if Dean hadn’t cited salmonella concerns. He pushes them around his plate and notices Castiel staring at him. “I know, I know, they’re nature’s perfect food,” Dean grumbles.

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re not my favorite, either. I’m really missing my burgers right about now.”

Dean props his chin on his fist thoughtfully. “The last burger I had was probably at Sammy’s bachelor party.” At Castiel’s questioning look, he adds, “That’s my brother.”

Castiel grins. “I won’t tell you the last time I had one, then.”

Dean groans. “Probably yesterday, if you were smart. Benny’s gonna micromanage the shit out of you from here on out.”

Castiel’s smile gets even wider. “I had one for breakfast.”

Dean’s desperately grasping at the reasons he doesn’t like Castiel, but his face betrays him, and he smiles back. “Smart. Hey, Benny! I’m going to be an uncle soon; is that reason enough to celebrate?”

Benny ambles over to them. “Sure, throw a party; I don’t care. I’ll plan the menu.”

Dean groans as Benny and Castiel snicker. Benny claps him on the shoulder. “I could probably be persuaded to look the other way for a night. Maybe. If you stop picking fights with Castiel for the rest of the week.”

Dean looks up, aghast. Those little snipes are increasingly becoming the only things that remind him that he’s not supposed to like Cas. Benny raises his eyebrows, holding back a smirk.

“Fine.”

“Great. Let’s get to work on choreography then.” Benny crosses his arms over his chest, daring Dean to argue with him.

Dean rises to the bait. “We’re partners; I don’t have to wrestle _him_ ,” he says, even though he and Sam always practiced with each other. 

“Well, I don’t see anyone else lining up to wrestle your sorry ass, and that’s kind of your whole job, so.”

Dean huffs and shovels down the rest of his lunch. “Come on, then. Let’s get it over with, Cas. Tiel.”

Castiel finishes his plate at a more sedate pace, Dean tapping his foot all the while. Finally, they walk over to the wrestling mats, Benny trailing behind them. “Let’s start with some back and forth so you can get a feel for each other. Dean, I want you to roll with the punches instead of blocking them every time. Work on being lighter on your feet. Castiel, just do whatever you normally do, so I can start to get a sense of your style.”

Benny drags over a folding chair and leans back, watching them expectantly. Dean turns back to Castiel, and they start circling each other around the mat. Dean makes the first move, stepping forward and swiping at Castiel. Castiel steps back out of reach easily and counters with a punch of his own that Dean blocks with his forearms instinctively, before grimacing as he remembers Benny’s words. 

They step back to eye each other again. This time, Dean waits for Castiel to make the first move. Castiel feints an uppercut, and Dean lifts his arms to protect his face, giving Castiel an opening to land a solid hit on his chest. Dean stumbles back and gasps at the impact. “Shit. Good one, man,” Dean pants, trying to catch the breath that got knocked out of him.

Dean lunges towards Castiel, intending to drag him to the ground, but Castiel throws a kick at him before he gets the chance. Thinking quickly of Benny’s comments, instead of lifting his knee towards his torso to absorb the kick, he catches Castiel’s leg and yanks it, throwing him off balance.

Castiel jerks forward, falling into Dean and causing them both to fall backwards. “Oof,” gets knocked out of Dean as he lands, trying to ignore Castiel’s solid weight pressing on top of him. Castiel scrambles off. “My apologies.”

Dean waves him off, even if his heart rate is a bit elevated. Castiel gets up and holds a hand out to Dean. Dean grips it and Castiel pulls him up. Dean swallows hard, darting his eyes towards Castiel’s.

Benny lets them go for an indeterminate amount of time, Dean falling into the rhythm of their punches and counters, before Benny claps his hands together, making both Dean and Castiel jump. “How about we do some submission holds? Dean needs to work on escaping them, and Cain told me that was one of your weak points, Castiel.”

Castiel tilts his head in acknowledgement while Dean groans internally. He hates submission holds. He doesn’t like using them, wanting to pin his opponent instead of making them tap out, and he hates it even more when he gets put in them.

“Want us to start with anything in particular?” Castiel asks.

Benny brings his hand up to his chin, humming thoughtfully. “Try a cross face.”

Dean glares at him, knowing that the move involves being way too close to Castiel’s crotch, in Dean’s humble opinion.

“Let’s ease our way into it, then?” Castiel suggests.

Dean sighs and lays down on his stomach, offering his arm to Castiel. Castiel sits down on the mat, and wraps his legs around Dean’s arm, planting one foot down for leverage as both arms come up to wrap around Dean’s head, locking his fingers together and forcing Dean’s head to move back and his neck to bend at an uncomfortable angle. Dean tries to flop around and escape the hold, but Castiel increases the pressure on his neck. Dean gasps for breath, his nose blocked by Castiel’s hands.

“Use your legs, Dean,” Benny coaches, “Castiel, good technique. Hold him tight.”

Dean tries to get one of his feet under him, but they scrabble uselessly against the mat. Dean taps Castiel’s arm as spots start to dance in his vision, and Castiel lets go immediately.

“Fuck,” Dean pants, rolling over to lie on his back.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asks, bending over Dean in concern.

Dean almost goes cross-eyed looking up at Castiel, before he turns his head away. “Fine. Benny, how the hell am I even supposed to get out of that?”

“Well, it’ll probably only be used as a finisher, so I guess you don’t have to worry about it. If someone gets you in that, it’s because you were slated to lose.”

Dean glares. “So what was the point of that little exercise, then?”

Benny shrugs innocently. “Castiel could use the practice. Let’s try the sharpshooter next.”

Dean jerks his head up. The sharpshooter basically requires them to grind their asses together. He moves his gaze from Benny to look at Castiel, who frowns. “I’m not familiar with that one.”

Dean pushes Castiel off of him and scrambles up. “How about we move on, huh?”

Benny laughs, a full throated belly laugh, and gives Dean a smirk. “Fine. We can revisit submission holds another day. Why don’t you two take it to the mat, we’ll see who pins who, and then we’ll call it quits for the day, all right?”

Dean drops into a slight crouch, and Castiel follows his lead. When things aren’t scripted, they tend to be a little less dramatic and a lot more functional. Dean’s determined to wait for Castiel. Even though he can be impatient, he knows the first person to make a move is the person who shows their hand too soon. 

Apparently, Castiel has the same idea, because they circle each other for a solid thirty seconds, just sizing each other up. Benny clears his throat from his seat, and Dean whips his head around to glare at him. Of course, that’s when Castiel makes his move, running at Dean and sweeping his legs out from under him, causing Dean to fall to the ground with a loud grunt. 

Castiel scrambles towards him, going for the pin, but Dean catches him with a foot to the gut, the impact reverberating through his ankle and making it twinge. Castiel staggers a little, but he quickly recovers and reaches for Dean’s arms. Dean’s not about to let there be a repeat of their submission hold practice, so Dean butts his head, ramming it into Castiel’s chest and forcing him back, hissing at the way an instant headache develops. 

Dean’s head is spinning a bit from his hit, but he jumps back to his feet and waits for Castiel to do the same before landing an uppercut that he doesn’t see coming. They grapple together in a way that’s rarely seen on stage, but it’s reminiscent of Dean’s childhood wrestling days. At least now he doesn’t have to worry about awkward boners. 

Not as _much_ , anyway.

Castiel seems determined to make Dean eat those words, because he throws Dean’s arms off of him and locks him in a sleeper hold, cutting off Dean’s air with the crook of his arm and putting his crotch right against Dean’s ass. Dean gasps for breath and curses all of the adrenaline he has right now that’s making his blood want to circulate in places Dean would rather have it not. He jabs back at Castiel with his elbow, landing a hit right under his ribs that makes them both hiss in pain before Castiel releases his hold. 

Dean stumbles away from Cas, rubbing at his neck and trying to get his breath back. They face each other again, but Castiel doesn’t give Dean time to recover and rushes into him with a shoulder to Dean’s chest, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Castiel plants a knee on Dean’s torso, his hands holding Dean’s shoulders flat. Dean’s paralyzed for a second at the nearness of Castiel’s face to his own, and by the time Dean starts to thrash to get out of the position, Benny’s counted to three and called their match. 

Castiel’s stare gets caught on Dean’s own for a moment. Benny clears his throat obnoxiously and Castiel jerks away from him and stumbles to his feet. He holds out a hand to help Dean up. Dean accepts, hoping Castiel isn’t disgusted by Dean’s sweaty palms. 

Benny whistles behind them in admiration. “That was great. Good job, Castiel. Dean and Sam have never been much for the high flying thing, but I think we might have to move to an actual ring, see what you can do. You just have to promise not to bruise Dean’s ego too badly.”

Castiel and Benny share a laugh, before Dean crosses his arms over his chest and coughs. “Yeah. Nice, uh, nice match.”

-

By the time Friday comes around, Dean’s a bundle of nerves, but he’s doing his best to hide it. Sam will tease him relentlessly if he gets wind of Dean’s stage fright after years of being on live tv every week, so he slaps Sam on the back. “Well, we made it, huh? The end of an era.”

Sam puts his phone away, smiling, undoubtedly at something Eileen sent him. He gives Dean a sheepish shrug. “Dawning of a new decade.”

Dean softens, even as he feels a jealous churning in his stomach, compounded by the butterflies already there. “He’s gonna be perfect, man.”

Sam gives him a grateful smile, before his eyes flicker down Dean’s body to his plaid-patterned wrestling trunks that might more accurately be called a speedo, and he laughs. “That’s a nice sentiment, but I can’t even take you seriously when you’re wearing that.” 

Dean shoves him, bemoaning ever letting Crowley talk him into his wrestling outfit, before slapping on his cockiest grin. “You’re one to talk. We match! Besides, at least I’m just giving the audience what they want to see. Who am I to deny them this?” He strikes a pose, and Sam gives him an unimpressed bitchface before their entrance music starts, cueing them to make their way down the ramp.

“Well, here we go.” Dean slings his championship belt over his shoulder and prepares himself to lose. 

They make their way to the ring, waving and looking around at the screaming fans. This is a no holds barred match, which means that anything and everything is allowed, so the fans are on the edge of their seats. Dean’s looking forward to getting to slam Michael through a table, at the very least. It’s the bare minimum he deserves, after all of the snide comments when they were all blocking out the match. 

After he and Sam climb through the ropes to stand in the ring, Dean squints into the bright lights to watch Lucifer and Michael strut down the ramp as the fans scream their disapproval. If they manage to get a “you suck” chant going, it would make Dean’s day. Alas, it doesn’t take hold by the time Michael and Lucifer are standing in the ring, chest to chest with Sam and Dean. 

“Ready to get your ass kicked, Winchester?” Lucifer asks, shouting into his mic so he can be heard above the roar of the crowd.

Dean grits his teeth and spits right back, “In your dreams.”

The fans scream their approval, and Dean’s already not looking forward to all the interviews he’s going to be subjected to after this loss. 

Sam and Lucifer retreat to their corners, Dean and Michael being the ones who are going to start the match out. Dean bounces on the balls of his feet as he waits for the ref to finish announcing the rules of the match and ring the bell that will begin it. Once he’s done, Dean and Michael begin circling each other. Michael makes the first move, charging towards Dean, but Dean sidesteps, an air current gusting past him as Michael runs into the turnbuckles. 

"Too slow!" Dean taunts.

Michael staggers back exaggeratedly and Dean gets his arm around Michael’s neck, dropping him backwards so Michael’s back smashes into his outstretched and bent knee. The impact hurt Dean, so he doesn’t even want to think about what Michael’s back feels like right now. 

Michael writhes on the ground but hooks a hand around Dean’s ankle, and Dean lets himself fall to the mat, grunting with the impact.

“Fuck!” he says under his breath as some skin gets scraped away from his elbow. The network would have his head if the mics picked that up, but he thinks he’s safe this time. Michael crawls over to him, draping his torso across Dean’s and trapping his back to the mat.

The canvas rubs against Dean’s back unpleasantly as he kicks out of the pin and rolls away before the ref even has a chance to start slapping out the counts. 

Dean gets up and dashes over to tag Sam in, who takes the opportunity to give Michael, still lying on the mat, an elbow drop to the gut, and Dean hisses in commiseration. Elbow hits are the worst, with all of their body weight being concentrated to one point of force. 

Michael jerks on the mat, and Sam turns his back to lift his hands up, engaging the crowd while giving Michael a chance to let Lucifer into the match. Lucifer runs up behind Sam while he’s still looking out at the audience, even as they shout for him to turn around. Dean snickers at the obliviousness Sam has to feign. Lucifer grabs Sam’s hair, and Dean yells for the ref. "That's dirty!" he shouts, but he's ignored.

Dean winces as he notes some loose strands drifting to the ground. Dean’s sure Sam’s going to be complaining about that for the next year. 

Dean mutters under his breath as Lucifer drags Sam to the middle of the ring, and now the no holds barred portion of the night starts to come into play. Michael disappears from the side of the ring to rummage around under the skirt of the mat. Dean’s still not sure what explanation there is for the fact that they casually keep weapons stored under the ring, but he watches as Michael comes back up with a two-by-four wrapped in barbed wire. 

The spikes on the barbed wire are rubber, but it’s still no picnic getting hit with a wire-wrapped plank of wood. He tosses it to Lucifer, who catches it and promptly smashes it into the side of Sam’s head, quickly followed by a blow to Sam’s wrapped knee.

Dean's stomach drops watching that, even though he's knows it's all scripted and that there's going to be a doctor to take a look at Sam as soon as they get backstage. It doesn't matter; he never wants to see his little brother hurt.

Sam staggers around the middle of the ring, and Dean shakes the ropes, calling to Sam to tag him in. Sam almost tags his hand, but Lucifer wraps his arms around Sam’s torso and yanks him back, throwing him to the ground and pinning him. The ref gets to two before Sam kicks out, catching Lucifer with an uppercut. Dean waves his hand more desperately, and Sam tags him in while Lucifer is still reeling from the blow. 

Dean goes straight out of the ring; now his turn to reach under the mat’s skirt. He pulls out a table, much to the audience’s delight, and not to mention Dean’s own. He loves it when he gets to use props, even moreso when it’s to put a dick like Michael in his place. Dean picks it up and slides it into the ring, taking his time to theatrically set it up, so Lucifer has the chance to stumble over to Michael and tag him in. 

Dean unfolds the legs and stands it upright, easily manipulating the table because of how light it’s built to be. The top is made of chipwood, perfect to break under pressure. By the time he finishes and turns around, Michael is right there with a fist to Dean’s solar plexus. The punch sends a spasm of pain through his chest, and Dean gasps, trying to get his breath back. 

He returns the blow and adds a kick into the equation, sending Michael to the ground. Dean drags Michael back up by his shoulder and grunts as he hefts him in a fireman’s carry before slinging him down and sending him crashing through the table.

Dean shields his eyes as wood chips fly everywhere. 

The fans cheer wildly, and Dean takes the time to raise both of his fists above his head for them before he drops to the floor and pins Michael. Dean makes it to the two count before his foot is jerked backward and Michael is able to get a shoulder off the mat. 

As Dean turns to the ref, exaggerated in his anger over the interference from Lucifer, Michael gets to his feet and tackles Dean to the mat. Dean uses an elbow to brace his fall, but pain reverberates through it and he curses himself for not spreading out his weight. Even after so many years of wrestling, it’s still hard to overcome his instincts. 

He flips over onto his back, just in time to see Michael climbing the ropes. Dean tries to hide his grimace; jumping on top of each other is never pleasant for either person. Michael climbs to the top rope, shouted on by Lucifer as Dean continues to lay on the ground, playing up his hurt from the fall. Michael jumps, and seconds before impact, Dean brings up a knee that catches Michael squarely in the gut, crying out in pain as Michael’s weight makes his leg twist in an unnatural way. 

He doesn’t think he’s hyper extended it or anything, though, so as Michael squirms on the mat, Dean crawls over to the corner Sam is in and tags him. Once he’s standing and behind the ropes, he takes the moment to rub at his elbow, grimacing. His grimace stays on his face as he looks up to see Lucifer’s been tagged in, and he wastes no time in poking Sam in the eyes. 

The ref shouts at Lucifer and makes a raking motion with his hand, because even if it is a no holds barred match, there’s still the expectation of a little sportsmanship. Of course, Michael and Lucifer are heels, the villains the fans love to hate, so they’re encouraged to be as egregious as possible. Dean stands in his corner and rages at the way it looked like Lucifer went much deeper than necessary. 

While Sam is stumbling around, hands to his eyes, Michael slides a steel chair that he’s procured from under the ring to Lucifer. Dean doesn’t even want to watch this part, but he can’t look away as Lucifer hefts the chair and aims a kick at Sam’s wrapped knee, dropping him to the mat before slamming the chair into Sam’s shoulder. 

Dean can’t help the way he calls out for Sam, his voice cracking as Sam writhes around on the ground, images of broken legs dancing through his head. Lucifer hits him again with the flat of the chair on Sam’s extended knee, for good measure. 

Dean grits his teeth as he’s forced to watch. He knows firsthand just how much shit like this can leave you fucked up, and he seethes that Sam’s forced to go through it and that the pleasure on Lucifer’s face seems a little too real. Michael watches him from his side of the ring with a pitying look, and Dean quickly scowls and looks away. He screams from his corner for Sam to get up, but Sam stays motionless as Lucifer pins him for the win. 

Even though it was scripted, red hot anger burns through Dean at the way Michael and Lucifer peacock in the wake of their victory. The crowd boos as Michael jumps into the ring and the ref raises their hands above their head. Dean has a sour taste in his mouth as the referee presents them with the championship belts. 

Dean climbs into the ring, something in his ears vibrating, and helps Sam up. Sam leans heavily on him as the ref gives Lucifer and Michael microphones. “Not so tough now, huh?” Lucifer gloats as Michael crosses his arms at his side, eyes narrowed as he looks at Dean. 

Dean glares at him and has a heavy urge to flip him the bird, but he knows the network wouldn’t appreciate that in the slightest. “I’ll be back,” Dean promises instead, following their script. 

“Oh, so now you’re Arnold Schwarzenegger all of a sudden? That’s cute. How do you plan on doing that when your partner is going to be out of commission?” Michael smirks as he gestures at Sam’s knee. 

“Yeah, I’d put some ice on that if I were you, Sammy. It’s looking a little swollen,” Lucifer adds in mock concern. 

To drive home the point, Lucifer walks over to get the chair he hit Sam with and unfolds it, gesturing for Sam to sit down. It’s a little crooked from the impact. 

“Screw you,” Sam spits, not leaving his place by Dean’s side. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice from shaking as the adrenaline starts to leave him. “We’re going to have a competition. A tournament, and whoever wins can be my next partner. And after I find the best wrestler, we’re gonna rip your lungs out.”

Michael and Lucifer exchange a look. “We’d love to see you try. After you prove your worth, of course. Don’t think for one second that you’ll get your rematch right away. You need to show you’re not washed up without Sammy here to pick up your slack.”

Dean scowls. “Fine. Go ahead and pencil it in on your calendar now.”

“Yeah, we’ll pencil it in, all right. Pencil it in so we can erase it later.” Michael and Lucifer share a high five, and Dean tries not to snort at their writers’ idea of a burn, forcing his face to stay in its scowl. 

They walk out of the ring, played out by their victory music. Dean tries not to dwell too much on the fact that Sam won’t be with him every Friday night anymore. A new chapter in their lives is beginning, and Dean is woefully unprepared. He and Sam exchange a look before they leave the ring and head down the ramp, Sam limping behind him. He can hear the announcers speculating about Sam’s leg, and exactly how long he’ll be out of commission for, and a weight settles on Dean’s chest. 

-

When Dean finally falls into bed, after a night that is way too full of people smacking him on the back and fans coming up to give him their heartfelt condolences and outrage at the loss, he can barely see straight. 

He stretches out on the bed, his spine popping as his various muscles protest, aching and sore. He checks his phone and sees a text from Castiel telling him his moves looked good during the match, and Dean snorts at the warmth that takes root in his chest. What is he, back in middle school and blushing as the high school guys complimented his abilities on the mat? Dean scowls at himself, annoyed. He turns his phone on silent and jams it under his pillow. He reaches across his too big bed, pulls his second pillow to his chest, and tosses and turns until he finally falls asleep.

-

_dean, oh my god it’s happening_

_we’re at the hospital_

_my hand is numb_

_the birthing classes did not prepare me for this_

_oh no what if the daddy and me classes are bullshit too_

_i’m not ready_

_i’ve never even had a dog why do i think i’ll be able to take care of a baby_

_this was a bad idea_

_you’ll tell me if I‘m acting like john, right??_

_holy shit_

_ >>1 picture attached _

_..._

_you’re an uncle_!

-

Dean squints at his phone, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He’s not sure why past-him had the brightness up so damn high. His eyebrows rise higher on his head the further down his missed texts he reads, until he sees the picture. He’s always thought people were being over dramatic when they called newborns cute (they look more like discolored raisins than anything else, in Dean’s humble opinion), but this one looks pretty perfect.

Dean swore he was never going to be this person, but he thinks the baby has Sam’s nose.

_Holy shit. Dude. You’re going to be a great dad. Calm down. When can I meet the little guy?_

_room 233. Eileen is demanding you bring her something salty_

_10-4_

Dean almost falls out of bed in his haste. He really doesn’t want to be the guy who brings the new mom something she shouldn’t be eating, so he settles on some chicken noodle soup that he heats up and puts in a thermos before heading for the hospital. He dumps some extra salt in, figuring Eileen could use the electrolytes, anyway. He tips the thermos onto its side, making sure it’s not going to leak. He'd never get the smell out of Baby. He thinks Baby is perfect just the way she is, but sometimes he admits to himself that cup holders would be nice.

When Dean pulls into the hospital’s parking lot, he’s struck by nerves. His stomach threatens to rebel against him, and Dean can’t help but roll his eyes at himself. He performs in front of thousands of people every week, not even counting the people who tune in on their tvs, and he’s sitting in his car being nervous about meeting a baby. Dean’s going to be the only one out of the duo who will remember this meeting, so Dean’s not sure why his body won’t just do what he tells it for once. Dean turns off the engine, opens the door, and forces his feet onto the ground. He’s just shut the door when he remembers Eileen’s soup. He rolls his eyes at himself and goes back to grab it.

He walks toward the hospital, checking the room number on his phone again. He goes through the door, ducking his head and speed walking past the front desk. He hates people asking him if he needs help, so he wants to look like he knows where he’s going. He follows the signs to the stairwell, climbing the steps and silently thanking Benny for making him run so that he’s not out of breath when he meets his nephew.

He only has to backtrack once to find the room, finally spotting it right as the man at the nurse’s station starts giving him questioning looks. He knocks on the frame, waving a hand into view. “You kids decent?”

He can practically hear Sam’s bitchface. “Come in!” Eileen calls.

Dean pokes his head through the door and tries not to melt as he takes in the two—now three—people most important to him. His face breaks into a grin to match the sunny look Eileen is sporting. “Hey,” he says softly, “what a cutie.”

He moves closer and pulls up a chair, depositing his bag of food on the bedside table and taking a moment to ruffle Sam’s hair. At Sam’s murderous glare, Dean raises his hands in defense. “You didn’t have to go through labor. I’m just trying to level the playing field for poor Eileen.”

Sam huffs in exasperation, so Dean turns to Eileen. _I brought you soup_ , he signs, gesturing to the bag.

 _That’s why you’re my favorite_.

“You’re not allowed to both gang up on me!” Sam cries. 

“Do you want to hold him?” Eileen asks, ignoring Sam’s complaints.

“I’m not going to, like, break him, right? Sammy wasn’t quite so little when I really started taking care of him.”

“I think you’ll be fine.”

Dean stretches out his arms, making sure to support the back of his nephew’s head, just like he read in all the parenting books Sam dropped off for Dean after he was finished with them. “What’d you decide on for the name?”

Sam and Eileen share a glance. “Robert Dean,” Eileen says with a soft smile.

Dean stares back at them, sure that they’re kidding. He looks back down at Robert. Holy shit. “Robert Plant and James Dean. Nice inspirations. Woulda thought you would have let Eileen pick one of the names, though, Sam, geez.”

“The Dean part was Eileen’s idea. Your head is already pretty big; I wasn’t sure if more ego could fit, but Eileen insisted.”

“Fuck you,” Dean says, not even able to swipe at his eyes with his arms occupied.

They sit in silence for a moment, Dean trying to wrap his head around this new fact. When Robert starts sniffling, Dean hands him back off to Sam. Eileen snorts. “Didn’t want to deal with it?”

“Hey, Sam’s the one that’s going to get woken up in the middle of the night, not me or you. He needs the practice.”

“We have a vibrating baby monitor,” Sam replies, sticking his tongue out and bouncing Robert a bit. He glances over at Eileen. “I’ve, uh, got the first couple nights covered, though. You need to rest.”

Eileen pats his hand. “I won’t argue with that.” She yawns and reaches over to grab the soup Dean brought her.

Dean slaps his thighs and stands up. “I’ll leave the new parents to it, then. Let me know when you guys get discharged; I’ll swing by with supper.”

Eileen raises her hand to her chin. _Thank you_.

“No problem. See you guys later. Try to keep these two out of trouble. You’re outnumbered now, Eileen.”

She exaggerates a scared face but leans towards the side of the bed to give Sam a kiss on the temple. “I think I’ll cope.”

-

Dean spends his days in a blur of training, his new nephew, and failing miserably not to let his thoughts dwell on Castiel. Benny is just trying to mess with him at their training now, trying to see what exercise that puts them way too close for comfort is going to be the straw that breaks Dean’s back. Dean’s not sure if that straw will cause him to punch Benny in the his stupid smug face or kiss that dumb innocent look off of Castiel’s. Dean can’t believe that Castiel doesn’t know exactly what he does to Dean, but his face remains frustratingly blank whenever Dean tries to glean any sort of notion that Castiel might return Dean’s feelings.

It’d be bad enough if Cas was just blindingly attractive, but he has the audacity to be _nice_ , too. He sits through their lunches, patiently letting Dean show him every picture of Robert he has on his phone. Dean doesn’t even know how many pictures that is; all he knows is that his phone yells at him that it has no memory left every time he opens it.

Maybe it’s finally time he gets an upgrade.

Letting Dean prattle on about Robert isn’t the only saint-like thing Castiel does, though. He volunteers at the animal shelter on their days off to walk the dogs and play with the cats, and he seems to always be telling Dean about something he helped his older neighbor with. Any day, Dean is expecting to see him guide a little old lady across the street, and Dean wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

“So. It’s finally going to be official this Friday. Are you excited?” Castiel asks, pulling Dean out of his reverie.

Dean snaps his head toward Castiel. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. We can finally be seen in public together without there being any weird speculation.” Dean laughs nervously as Castiel gives him an odd look.

“I mean, not that we need to, to, make, like, a public appearance or anything,” Dean stammers.

Castiel hums, looking back down at his lunch. “No, I suppose not. It’ll be nice that the option is there, though. Maybe we can do something outside of work some time.”

Dean’s stomach flips, even as a voice in the back of his head screams at him that he’s not supposed to be reacting like this to Castiel. “Yeah. Yeah, man, I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i bet you'd like that, huh, dean?


	3. don't break a leg

Dean steers them towards the Road House. He knows if they go somewhere nice, they’re going to be recognized, and then they won’t be able to get a word in to each other all night. Tonight is about celebration. 

He looks over at Castiel, swallowing hard at the way he looks so at ease in Baby, the streetlights casting a gentle glow on his jawline and illuminating his still-sweaty face after the match. “So, uh. Nice job tonight. It’s legit now. Dean and Castiel, tag team partners,” Dean prattles. “Glad you didn’t end up with another broken leg. Who knows who would have been the sad sack they’d make be my partner then.”

Castiel cracks a grin. “No ladders involved this time.”

“Your moves looked really… clean,” Dean says, cursing his ability to say anything but what he actually wants to say.

“Thanks,” Castiel returns, just as awkwardly.

They turn into the Road House’s parking lot, and Dean sends up a silent thanks.

“I’ve never heard of this place before,” Castiel comments.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a dive. We shouldn’t have to worry about anyone recognizing us here, though.”

Castiel nods as Baby glides to a stop, and they get out. Dean smiles softly when he sees the care Castiel takes to not slam his door.

They walk into the bar, and Ellen does a double take when she sees them. Dean shepherds Castiel back to a corner booth. “What do you want to drink?” Dean asks as Castiel sits down.

Castiel shrugs. “Whatever you’re having.”

Dean turns around to go to the bar, but he runs right into Ellen.

“Look who showed up! I figured you forgot how to get here.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy, Ellen.”

“Uh-huh.” She leans around Dean to put the two beers she was carrying on their table and to peer at Castiel. “Did you come here to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”

Dean splutters and resolutely does _not_ look back at Castiel to see his reaction to Ellen’s words. “No, we just wanted to get a beer somewhere we wouldn’t get _harassed_.”

Ellen grins. “I’m not sure why the hell you came here, then.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever. This is my new wrestling partner, Castiel.” Dean gestures vaguely behind him.

“Nice to meet you, Castiel. I’m Ellen, Dean’s aunt. I’m sure he hasn’t mentioned me.”

Dean finally turns around to look at Castiel and suppresses his laugh at Castiel’s deer in the headlights look.

“He hasn’t, but I wouldn’t take it personally. All he can talk about anymore is his nephew,” Castiel says when he finally stops gaping at them.

Ellen smiles. “Speaking of little Robert Dean, you got any new pictures for me?”

Dean scoffs as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Do you even have to ask?”

Dean slides into the booth and takes a drag of his beer, signaling for Ellen to join them. He looks over to see Cas staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Your nephew’s named after you?”

“Yeah, I know. Only slightly better than Albus Severus.”

Castiel squints. “Harry Potter?”

Dean sighs and swats at Castiel’s arm. “We really need to watch those. I can’t believe you haven’t even read the books. You’re the one that’s supposed to be the nerd here.”

Castiel looks down at himself. “What gives you that impression?”

“Uh.” Dean licks his lips unconsciously. “Well, _I’m_ certainly not the brains of this operation.”

Castiel frowns at him and opens his mouth to reply, but Ellen clears her throat and stops anything else he might have said. 

Dean blushes and turns to Ellen, handing her his phone. He doesn’t look back at Castiel.

-

Monday rolls around, and with it, Castiel, holding out a tupperware container to Dean. “Here,” Castiel says.

Dean fruitlessly wipes the sweat off of his forehead from his run and accepts, cracking the lid open.

“It’s apple crisp,” Castiel hurries to explain. “I had too many apples, and I needed to use them up.”

“Thanks, Castiel,” Dean replies, determinedly not looking at the sharp jut of Cas’s collarbone that his too-big shirt reveals. 

Castiel raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Castiel looks away.

Benny takes that moment to amble over. “If you had so many apples, where’s mine?”

Castiel mumbles something Dean doesn’t quite catch and beats a hasty retreat to go change.

“What’s his problem?” Dean asks, looking at Cas’s retreating back. 

Benny levels him a disbelieving look. “Give me another mile, Winchester.”

-

Their dance around each other continues, in what seems like an endless spiral. Dean is close to despair that neither one of them is going to nut up and make the first move. What if he’s been misreading the signals all along, though? He still has to wrestle with the guy, and Dean doesn’t want to make it awkward. What if Castiel is still stewing from their first meeting and actually hates Dean? What if Castiel doesn’t even swing that way and gives Dean a broken nose for his trouble?

It’s not like queer wrestlers are just popping out of the woodwork. Looking back, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cas flirt with anyone, so he has no idea who Castiel is attracted to, if it’s even anyone at all. Dean’s job kind of depends on his face being intact, so he’ll have to be content with what he has for now. 

And what he has is a tag team partnership that’s climbing the ranks. For the past month, they’ve been fighting no name, no talent teams as part of Michael and Lucifer’s demands for them to be able to challenge them. Tonight, now that they’ve moved up the ranks a bit, they’re facing Jesse and Cesar, and Dean’s not looking forward to it. He hates wrestling his friends, hates that however much he pulls his blows, there still has to be impact for the cameras, and it’s still going to hurt. This match is slated to be dramatic, too, with a top rope jump. Dean’s just glad it’s Castiel that’s going to be doing it. Dean’s getting too old to be jumping all over the place.

Dean turns to Castiel. “You ready?”

Castiel strips off his t-shirt, so that he’s left just in his spandex wrestling pants and nods.

Dean looks away, but not before his eyes catch on Castiel’s stupid mole right next to his nipple. Dean wishes he didn’t know it existed, because it’s slowly ruining his life. Cas always gives him that confused head tilt whenever Dean’s gaze lingers on it for too long. 

Dean tries to swallow, but his throat is suddenly bone dry. Their music starts, and they make their way down the ramp to the ring, waving at the cheering fans. Dean preens at the attention, smiling widely and trying not to wave too much like a pageant queen. By the time they’ve made it to the center of the ring, Jesse and Cesar are walking towards them, their hands joined together as the crowd screams their adoration.

The first time Jesse and Cesar wrestled together, the tension backstage was palpable. The WWE’s not exactly known for their accepting fans, after all. Everyone had been surprised at the lack of jeers and the easy acceptance the fans had had for them, quickly becoming one of the most popular tag teams. Not that Dean likes to brag or anything, but he and Sam were at the top of the list, too, and he’s slowly getting back up there with Castiel. 

The fans seem to see the same endearing qualities in Castiel that Dean sees, that he’s forced to reckon with day in and day out at their training, and even more, lately, as he and Castiel have veered into something dangerously close to friendship. They spend most nights after their matches together, often visiting the Road House, but sometimes skipping it to go somewhere without Ellen’s prying eyes.

Dean thinks those have been the times they’ve been closest to becoming something more, but the words and actions necessary haven’t materialized, so they keep teetering ever closer to the precipice. Dean’s not sure if they’re ever going to reach the edge.

Castiel slugs Dean in the arm, bringing Dean back to the present as the referee announces them. It’s their way of saying good luck, _don’t_ break a leg, right before they start wrestling. Dean misses the warmth next to him as Castiel retreats to outside the ring, standing in the corner to wait for Dean. Dean takes a deep breath as the match begins.

-

After the match, when Dean’s coming down off his adrenaline high and trying to hide the way his back is throbbing and making it difficult to stand up straight, Bela, another wrestler, struts right up to Cas and runs a hand down his bare chest. “My, you certainly looked very nice out there tonight, handsome,” she says with a wink.

Dean barely resists the urge to growl.

Castiel looks down at her hand, something that seems like confusion tugging at his lips. “Um, thank you.”

Bela continues to press, even though anyone with half a brain and one eye would be able to tell Castiel isn’t interested. 

“Do you have plans later tonight? Because I have something in mind that I think we’d both enjoy…”

“Um, yes, sorry. I already told Dean I’d go out with him,” Cas says apologetically, even though it’s the first time Dean’s hearing of this

“I’m sure Dean would understand.” She smirks, and Dean regrets ever letting her talk him into sleeping with her, even if it was years ago. 

Dean’s just opening his mouth to tell her to back off, and that Cas clearly isn’t into her when Castiel answers instead. “You do know I’m gay, right?” he asks, and Dean’s world screeches to a halt.

He chokes on his own spit, and he starts coughing uncontrollably. Castiel turns to him, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Dean waves him off. “Fine, I’m fine. Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe,” Dean gasps.

Castiel’s frown deepens. “You knew, right, Dean?”

“I didn’t exactly get a sheet with your whole life story on it, man.”

“Well, it’s not a problem, is it?” Castiel asks, shifting defensively and crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, no! Not a problem at all.” And that’s Dean’s chance to say, _If it was a problem I’d be a massive hypocrite, because I’m bisexual_ , but even at 32 he still struggles with actually saying the sentence aloud. It’s not like he keeps it a secret on purpose, he just doesn’t exactly advertise it. Why bother going through all the explanations when he doesn’t need to? Sam’s the only one he’s ever explicitly told, and that’s only because Sam called him out on his crush on Gunnar Lawless and forced Dean’s hand.

“Nope, that’s totally cool, man. Thanks, um, thanks for trusting me,” Dean says, repeating what Sam had told him. It made him feel better at the time, he thinks. 

Bela slinks off with her tail between her legs, so Dean turns back to Cas, heart in his mouth. “Wanna go get ice cream?”

Cas smiles at him. “It’s a date.”

-

_Gabriel is having sex right now. Loudly. >.< I am scarred for life, I’m afraid. _

_oh geez dude. I have a free couch? I’d offer to go get beers to help you try to forget whatever you heard but i’m babysitting. you can drink over here if you want_

_I’ll take you up on that before I gouge out my eardrums_

Dean looks at Robert, sleeping serenely in his playpen. He looks around the rest of his condo, which is a complete disaster. He normally never lets it get this much of a mess, but there’s mail piled on his coffee table, dishes in the sink, and dirty clothes draped over his recliner. Fuck.

He makes a mad dash for the clothes. If Castiel sees his underwear in a non-sexy capacity, he might die. On second thought, the risk is probably there no matter what scenario Castiel would see his boxers in. He decides the mail will have to stay for now and plugs his sink to start filling it up with water, glancing over at Robert to make sure he’s still asleep.

He huffs out a nervous breath as he starts scrubbing at his dishes as quickly as he can. There’s a knock at the door, and Dean drops the plate he was holding into the sink with a thud. He looks around despairingly at the rest of his messy condo, but he opens the door anyway. “Hey, Cas. Tiel,” Dean greets.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean opens the door wider so Cas can squeeze past him. “Thank you for letting me come over,” Castiel says.

“No problem, man. If I had to hear Sam having sex, I’d never be able to look him in the eyes again.”

Castiel hums in agreement. “I’m fairly certain Gabriel makes it his goal to be as loud as possible.”

Dean winces in sympathy. “You want a beer?” he asks, but Robert coughs and startles himself awake before Castiel can answer.

Dean holds his breath, waiting to see how Robert is going to react, and he starts to sniffle. “They’re in the fridge if you want. Help yourself to whatever,” Dean says, walking over to pick Robert up and rest him against his shoulder.

He bounces Robert for what seems like forever. He hasn’t progressed into full scale sobs yet, though, so Dean will count it as a victory. He looks up, and when he sees Castiel staring at him, he quickly glances back down at Robert, humming until his eyes are finally closing again. Dean sets him back down carefully, feeling like he may as well be defusing a bomb. 

Dean goes into the kitchen to grab his own beer before he takes a seat next to Castiel on the couch. He doesn’t let his eyes linger on the way Cas’s throat works as he drinks his beer. The beer that Dean bought specifically because he thought it looked like some weirdass IPA that Castiel normally gets when they go to bars. Fuck. Dean’s fucked.

“So, uh. You wanna watch a movie or something?”

Castiel shrugs. “I’d be amenable.”

Dean side eyes him. _Amenable_? But then he catches Castiel’s smirk and Dean shoves at his side. “Hey, fuck you, I know big words, too.”

Castiel puts his hand on his chin. “Hmm. Is that why your most used word is _fuck_?”

Dean’s mouth flaps before he threatens, “I’ll take you downtown right now.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Cas says, and Dean can’t take that kind of affront, so he lunges towards Cas on the couch. 

He knocks Castiel back against the arm rest and brings both of his own arms up to pin Castiel in. “You gonna apologize or what?” Dean asks.

Castiel just keeps looking him in the eye. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Oh?” Dean asks, concentrating hard so his voice doesn’t waver, suddenly confronted with how close he is to Castiel, how their bodies are pressed together, and he’s distracted by the way he can feel the hard planes and muscles of Castiel’s torso belied with the slightest softness. 

Castiel leans imperceptibly forward, and Dean finds himself matching the gesture, but his phone rings and Dean falls off the couch in a graceless heap. “Are you okay?” Cas asks as Dean scrambles for his phone.

“Fine,” Dean answers before swiping to accept the call. “Hey, Sammy. What’s up?”

“We just got done with dinner, and we’re on our way back to get Robert. Figured you needed time to prepare yourself—hey, you good? You sound out of breath. I hope he’s not being too much trouble.”

“Um. No, no, he’s been fine. He’s just, uh, been keeping me on my toes, you know how it goes. He’s sleeping right now.”

“All right, well, we’ll be there in around half an hour.”

“See you then.”

Dean hangs up and looks back to Cas, who’s looking at him questioningly. Dean jerks his head towards Robert. “His ride. Sam and Eileen just got done with their dinner.”

Castiel stands up, tilting his head all the way back to drain the last of his beer. “I can go, then. I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, it’s not intruding. I invited you, man. You practically just got here.”

Castiel scratches the back of his neck. “I know, and, um, thank you. I just—I’m sure Gabriel is done by now, so it’s probably safe to return.”

Dean can feel this chance with Castiel slipping through his fingers, but he shrugs. “Up to you. Hey, why do you live with Gabriel, anyway, if he gives you so much grief? I’m sure you can afford your own place.”

Castiel tilts his head. “I’d never really thought about it. I’ve never lived by myself before.” He frowns at Dean. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Dean shakes his head, ready to deny it, but he stops himself. He shrugs, and Castiel gives him a small, sad smile. 

-

If Dean thought the tension during their practices was bad before, it just gets even worse after the scene at Dean’s condo. Benny can’t seem to stop shooting innuendos at Dean whenever Cas leaves the room, and Castiel’s touches linger a beat longer than Dean would say is strictly necessary. Now that Dean knows that Cas is actually into guys, each touch seems filled with a weight that it didn’t have before. But maybe Dean is overthinking things. It’s been known to happen. 

Dean worries so much about Cas, that he barely has time to be anxious about their upcoming match with Azazel and Alastair. It’s another stepping stone on their way to Michael and Lucifer, and if Dean was Castiel, he’d be buzzing out of his skin. Alastair is the one who broke his leg before, and Dean’s looking forward to getting the opportunity to beat the hell out of him. 

Karma’s a bitch, bitch. 

-

Revenge really is a dish best served cold, Dean thinks, as Castiel delivers a vicious stomp to Azazel’s calf. Azazel curls up to grab at it, and Dean hopes he has a charlie horse. It’s only fair. He deserves a hell of a lot more, in Dean’s humble opinion, but Cas practically threatened Dean with death if he didn’t keep it reined in. Dean had grumbled about it, but he had agreed he wouldn’t do anything too wildly off script. Like, oh, he doesn’t know, breaking someone’s leg, for example. 

As Castiel plants his foot between Azazel’s legs and wraps them around it before dropping to the mat to get the best leverage for an agonizing figure four leg lock, though, Dean thinks he might be doing all right on his own. He maintains the hold until Dean can see real pain start to filter through to Azazel’s face, and even when Azazel taps out frantically, Cas doesn’t release him until the ref comes to break them up. 

Dean watches Azazel limp off the stage, supported by Alastair, and he crosses his arms over his chest and grins smugly. 

The grin is wiped off his face by Michael and Lucifer’s entrance. Dean can’t believe he forgot they were coming out. He shoots a quick look to Cas, but he looks as stoic as ever. 

The referee appears at Dean’s elbow and hands him and Cas microphones. “So, you ready to stop making us jump through hoops?” Dean asks. 

The crowd cheers their support, some individual cheers of _Castiel, marry me!_ filtering through that make Dean fight to keep a straight face. He can't blame them. Michael waits until they settle down to respond. “I guess you’ve proved you’re not as washed up as I thought you were, Winchester.”

Lucifer elbows his way in front of Michael. “You’ll get your match, but there’s no way we’re going to lose to you two. You better get ready to go cry to Mommy. Oh, wait.”

Dean rolls his eyes and lets that slide off his back. Dead mom jokes became stale years ago. 

“At least we don’t have to play dirty to win,” Cas interjects. 

Lucifer wrinkles his nose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. By the way, congratulations on not breaking a limb, twinkle toes.”

Dean knows that it’s a part of the script, but it’s even harder not to get offended when it’s not him they’re taking shots at. He’s determined to do something nice for Cas to make up for it. 

-

“Here,” Dean says, offering Cas a foil-wrapped package. “Don’t let Benny see.”

Cas peeks inside, and his eyes widen comically. He tucks it to his chest. “I’m going to the locker room. Tell Benny I must be running late.”

-

“Thank you,” Castiel says after they’re done practicing for the day, furtively looking around to make sure Benny isn’t in earshot.

Dean shrugs. “I had some ground beef I needed to use up.” He elbows Cas, grinning.

Cas rolls his eyes. “I did have extra apples!” he protests. “See if I do anything nice for you again.” He crosses arms over his chest, but his act is betrayed when he can’t stop the corners of his lips from turning up.

Dean's helpless to do anything but return the gesture. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hE hAd exTrA gROunD BeEf


	4. at least cas wears pants

“I’m so nervous,” Dean complains as he leans against the wall in their training center. “This is like, the most important match of your life. How are you so calm?”

Castiel shrugs. “Dean, it’s scripted. What is there to be nervous about?”

“I would think that you, of all people, would understand. Was getting your leg broken scripted?”

Castiel grimaces. “Well, no, but that was an anomaly. Nothing like that is going to happen. Would it make you feel better if we practiced more? We can block it out. I’ll be Michael.”

Dean stops wringing his hands as he considers the idea. “Uh, actually, you know what, that would make me feel better. I have a mat at my condo; I’ll make supper and you can come by and we’ll stage it out?”

“Sure. Sounds good,” Castiel says before he walks out the door and leaves for the day.

As Dean watches him go, Benny comes up behind him and wordlessly claps Dean on the shoulder.

Dean turns and scowls at him. “What?”

Benny shrugs. “Oh nothing. Just, uh, make sure you wrap it before you tap it, brother.”

Dean flushes bright red and flaps his mouth as he tries to come up with a comeback. “You… you wrap it…”

“Nice one. Try to be a little smoother tonight, huh?”

-

Dean roams his condo, cursing Gabriel for the millionth time that they can’t ever do things at Castiel’s house. They had tried that once, but they didn’t even finish watching _The Sorcerer’s Stone_ before Gabriel successfully flushed them out. He insisted on planting himself in the recliner and watching with them, making crude comments about Professor Quirrell and what exactly he would do if he had an extra mouth before turning his sights to Cas and Dean. Dean really didn’t want to wait around to see where exactly he was going to take the comments.

So, long story short, they don’t go to Cas’s anymore. Dean picks a banana peel off the counter and throws it in the trash, before wrinkling his nose and deciding he better just take the whole thing out.

He walks it out to the dumpster, thinking about what he’s going to make them for supper all the while. His refrigerator has been more stocked since Castiel coming over has become a regular thing, so he has a few options. He’s even become a better cook since he’s started making food for Sam and Eileen a lot more often, so they eat something over than freezer food every now and again. Sam constantly bemoans the lack of greens in his diet, so Dean’s taken to throwing a handful of spinach into most of his dishes. He knows Benny would approve, at least. Benny’s stopped being such a control freak about Dean’s diet now that he’s not one part of the tag team champions anymore, but Dean knows that’ll change again once he and Cas beat Michael and Lucifer. Dean’s not looking forward to that part of his victory.

He opens his fridge and stares at the contents, pulling out some eggs and vegetables and deciding on a frittata. He glances at the clock, quickly assembling the ingredients and sticking the whole thing in the oven to bake. His gaze catches on some of Robert’s errant toys, so he stoops over to pick them up and stick them in a drawer.

He’s just moved on to putting the baby bottles left on his counter to dry in a cupboard when there’s a knock on his door. Dean swings open the door and lets Cas in, noting that Castiel must have taken a shower before coming over because his hair is wet and there’s little beads of water slowly making their way down from the nape of Cas’s neck and disappearing under his t-shirt. Undoubtedly he already took his “pre-supper run.” Dean fights to contain his smirk. 

“Hey, come in. About ten minutes until food’s ready.”

Castiel lifts the tupperware that Dean had failed to notice before. “Gabriel made a cake, and he’s already too hyper without all the extra sugar, so I commandeered part of it for us.”

Dean grins and takes the container. “Sounds good to me.”

Castiel walks into the condo, shedding his trench coat and hanging it on a hook, right beside Dean’s canvas jacket.

Dean’s heart does _not_ swell at the sight.

Dean turns to put the cake on the counter and crouches down to peer at his frittata through the oven window. He jumps when Cas suddenly appears behind him. “Geez, warn a guy, would you?”

He swallows hard. He can feel Cas’s body heat, and he jerks back, heading towards the fridge. “You want a drink?”

“Just water for now, thanks.”

Dean bobs his head and grabs two bottles before he straightens up and shuts the door. He wordlessly hands one of them over to Cas, and they lean against the counter, Dean keeping an eye on the oven.

“No Robert tonight?”

“Nah, Sam and Eileen said they were good. I’ll probably swing by tomorrow, make sure they’re not starving.”

“What would they ever do without you?” Castiel teases, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

“Not get any sleep or sex, that’s for sure. Babies are real party poopers.”

Castiel hums. “Is that so?”

Dean glances up and sees the grin twisting Castiel’s mouth.

“Definitely. They’re lucky I’m here, or else Sam wouldn’t be so keen on the stay at home dad thing. He freaks about everything. He texts me all the time. ‘Dean, he has a temperature. Dean, he’s not eating. Dean, his poop is green. Dean, I’ve tried everything and he’s still crying.’” Dean continues, making a flapping motion with his hand until Castiel is giving him a full belly laugh, and Dean beams at the accomplishment.

He leans back down to check their supper, decides it looks ready, and pulls it out. Castiel leans over his shoulder. “Mm, looks good.”

Hyper-aware of Cas’s nearness, Dean says, “It’s nothing much. Just tossing stuff into a pan and baking it.”

“Where is this modesty at our practices? I’m still not sure why you think you can beat me.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, me neither. Can’t give up the hope, though, right?”

Dean rummages through his drawer to find a knife and slices the frittata, putting it on two plates for them before offering one to Castiel.

They move to the bar and discuss their blocking and things they want to make sure happen in their match with Michael and Lucifer. Of course, they’ll actually have to practice with them, but Dean wants to be as prepared as possible before they get to that point. He doesn’t want to give them any ammunition to make fun of him with. 

When they’re done eating (saving room for dessert, of course), they move to Dean’s exercise room, equipped with a soft wrestling mat that spans practically the whole floor. “Nice setup,” Cas comments.

“Thanks. Yeah, uh, me and Sam used to do this a lot, before he met Eileen.”

Castiel tilts his head but doesn’t say anything. Dean clears his throat. “Ready?”

Castiel answers by rushing towards Dean, trying to knock him off balance and get him on the ground. Dean grabs Cas’s outstretched arms and throws him to the mat before straddling him and completely losing his train of thought at the press of their groins together. “Uh, what did we say was going to happen after he’s on the ground?” Dean asks. 

Castiel twists his body to one side, toppling Dean off so they’re both laying on the mat. “Right, right,” Dean says, “and then he tries to pin me?”

“If I recall correctly,” Castiel answers, crawling over and hooking his arm behind one of Dean’s legs, holding his back to the mat. Cas’s face looms over Dean. 

They stare at each other, the moment dragging on, until Cas leans down, breath ghosting over Dean’s lips. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, and Dean surges up to answer his question.

He rolls Castiel over so that now Cas is the one with his back on the floor, and Dean reaches a hand down to trail it over Cas’s cheekbones. Cas closes his eyes, savoring the caress that’s such a contrast from the way they typically get touched.

The part of Dean that hasn’t gotten laid in months is screaming at him to strip off his clothes, rut against Castiel’s thigh, do anything that will give him some relief, but Dean cares too much about Cas to do that. He scrambles up, holding out a hand to help Cas do the same.

Cas uses the hand to stand and then yank Dean closer. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Cas murmurs.

“How long _you’ve_ been waiting? Cas, I think you underestimate how your ass looks in your spandex.”

“Yes, well at least I wear pants.”

Dean winces. “Crowley talked me into the trunks. I know, I look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous isn’t the word _I’d_ use,” Castiel whispers into Dean’s mouth, and Dean grins and closes the distance between them.

The kiss quickly turns heated, the culmination of all their almosts and near-misses. Castiel pulls back. “How about you show me your bedroom?”

Dean pulls back, too, to really look at him. “You sure? I don’t want to rush into this.”

Cas laughs. “Dean, we’ve been dancing around each other for months. How can you possibly think we’re rushing anything?”

Dean snorts. “You’ve got a point there.” He holds his hand out for Castiel to take. He does, and Dean thinks this could be the start of something big, something that makes his stomach swoop if he stops to examine it too closely.

So, he doesn’t. He stops thinking and gives himself over to the sensations Cas is making ping through his body, causing his toes to curl in the fuzzy carpet. 

They only make it halfway down the hall before Castiel takes Dean’s arm and pushes him back up against the wall, pressing their lips together again. Dean opens for him and tangles his free hand through Castiel’s hair. 

When he tugs on it, Cas moans, and that’s all the more reason for Dean to step back and yank Castiel into his bedroom. Dean walks Cas back towards his bed, until Cas’s thighs hit the mattress and he sits down with a heavy plop. Dean follows, planting his knees on either side of Cas. He leans back and drags his fingers up Castiel’s inseam, his fingers catching on the pills in the cotton of the sweatpants Cas had worn for their practice match. He teases his hands right above the waistband, dipping into them just slightly to play with the drawstrings coyly. 

Cas drops his head back, and Dean takes the opportunity to mouth across Castiel’s neck, only barely avoiding the temptation to really dig in and give Cas marks that he’ll be walking around with tomorrow. A thrill runs through Dean at the thought of leaving a sign that Cas is _his_ , but the makeup artists would not be happy if they had to cover up a hickey, so he restrains himself. Cas is barely hard, so Dean grinds his groin against Cas’s, making them both groan. Cas’s hands shoot up to wrap around Dean, pressing their torsos closer together. Dean’s hand snakes down between them and slips into Cas’s pants, his eyebrows about flying off his forehead when he discovers Cas isn’t wearing boxers. He gives Cas’s cock a couple of light strokes, not wanting to cause chafing when there isn’t a whole lot of lube in the picture just yet. Dean climbs off of Castiel’s lap, causing a whine in the back of his throat. 

Dean laughs. “Don’t worry, man. Let’s, uh, let’s lose some layers, though, huh?”

Castiel’s eyes don’t leave Dean as he steps out of his shorts and tugs off his shirt. When Dean makes an impatient motion at him, Castiel slides off his pants, leaving them in a pool on the floor, and he takes off his shirt and flings it across the room. Dean crawls on the bed, and Castiel scoots back to meet him, running his hand down Dean’s chest, making its way through the space between Dean’s pecs. Dean tries not to drool as he’s able to get his hands on Cas’s chest in turn. Cas is ripped, for lack of a better term. Dean knew he was, fuck, did he know, but seeing and feeling are two different things and Dean likes the feel of the hard muscle more than he cares to admit. 

Castiel practically tackles him to the bed, forcing Dean back until he is laying down, and then Dean does his best not to blush as Cas runs his hands and mouth over practically every part of Dean. 

He starts with Dean’s feet, digging his thumbs into Dean’s soles, and Dean exhales sharply as Cas rubs right at the spot that always aches after a long day. He moves up, pressing gentle kisses to Dean’s ankles, and Dean squirms. “Come on,” he complains, but Castiel pays him no heed, mouthing a wet kiss into the soft flesh of Dean’s inner thigh. 

His cock twitches at the proximity, but Cas skips right over it, moving to Dean’s belly instead. “Cas, fuck,” Dean pants, reaching down to take matters into his own hands, but Cas swats his hands away. 

“Wait,” he demands, so Dean does. 

Castiel lingers on Dean’s chest, giving ample attention to Dean’s nipples until they’re hard and painfully sensitive. He moves to Dean’s neck with a sloppy kiss, and Dean shuts his eyes, just letting Cas do what he wants. 

Finally, _finally_ , Cas wraps a hand around Dean’s aching erection, and Dean hisses as Cas’s thumb brushes over the slit, smoothing precome back down the length of his shaft. As Castiel’s hand begins to find its rhythm, his thumb dips back to rub at Dean’s perineum and balls. 

“Ah, fuck, Cas,” Dean pants. 

Castiel continues stroking as Dean sits up and reaches over into Cas’s lap. Cas’s cock is an angry red, standing at attention, and Dean jerks him off in tandem to what Cas is doing to him. 

Dean adds in a twist of his wrist, and they keep this up for several minutes, their mouths meeting in what’s more a swapping of saliva than an actual kiss until their strokes start to stutter. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to be the first one to come, but Cas’s breath ghosts over Dean’s ear, panting, and Dean caves as he lets bliss wash over him. 

Castiel follows him soon after, and when Dean is able to actually move his limbs again, he reluctantly gets up. “Where are you going?” Cas asks. 

“Just to get a wash rag. Lay back down.”

Castiel frowns. “There’s a wet spot.”

Dean groans. “Are you really going to make me change my sheets right now?”

“Well, Gabriel has informed me it’s customary for the partner who comes first to sleep in it, so I suppose it doesn’t matter to me.”

Dean sighs as he turns to get new sheets, pointedly not looking at Cas’s smug smirk. “Yeah, yeah, thank you for the mind blowing sex, Dean, now clean up after me,” Dean mocks in a high pitched voice. 

Cas opens his mouth to reply, but Dean doesn’t give him a chance before he leaves the room. 

He finds sheets, and Cas helps him put them on, barely hiding his yawn. Dean flips on his tv and hands the remote to Cas. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” he threatens.

He does an awkward half jog to the kitchen to retrieve the cake Cas had pilfered. “Thank you, Gabe,” Dean says as he peeks in the container to see elaborate piping. 

He puts two pieces on a plate and grabs forks before taking it to Cas. He’s settled himself against the pillows, and Dean swears it only warms his heart a little bit. Dean hands the plate over as he climbs into bed, ignoring Cas's snort at his ungracefulness. “Can it, Cas. Tiel.”

Castiel considers Dean over his bite of cake. “You know, I’m beginning to like the sound of Cas. Then again, I think I’d like the sound of anything if you were moaning it.”

Dean blushes bright red and wants to hide his face, but he still has to eat his cake, dammit. “Maybe we should try asshole, instead.”

“Hmm, that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Dean could get used to this. 

-

The sound of his phone ringing wakes Dean up. He grunts and pats his hand over the bedspread looking for it, but his hand meets an arm instead. Dean looks over and sees Cas’s messy hair sticking just over the top of the comforter. “Make it stop,” Cas groans.

Dean finally finds his phone and scoops it up. “Hello?” Dean answers groggily.

“Hey, Dean! Would you mind watching Robert while we go grocery shopping? Eileen never gets the right milk, but she wants these special potatoes or something, I don’t know, so we both need to go.”

“Um.” Dean shakes his head, trying to clear out the sleep, and throws off the covers, earning him an unhappy growl from Cas. “Yeah, sure, I can do that. When will you be over with him?”

“Ten minutes?”

Dean looks down at his naked body. “Yeah, that’s not going to work. Give me thirty?”

Sam hums. “Okay, that’s fine. Wait, did I wake you up? Dude, it’s 9:30! You never sleep this late!”

“I don’t know. I just slept well for once. I needed it.”

“Okay, well, that’s good, then. I’ll see you around ten.”

Dean gives Sam a grunt of acknowledgement before he hangs up and thuds his phone on the nightstand. He looks back at Cas, who has commandeered all of the blanket and is doing his best impression of a burrito. Dean decides it’s probably best to let him sleep. 

He goes through his morning routine and is just pulling on a shirt when there’s a knock at the door. Dean walks over to it and swings it open, stepping back for Sam and Eileen to come in. Robert is in tow in a papoose on Sam’s chest that Dean wisely doesn’t comment on. Sam looks at the sink. “Wow, you must have really been tired if you went to bed without cleaning your kitchen.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Good morning to you, too; you’re welcome for watching your little bundle of joy and all that.”

Eileen helps him set up the pack n’ play she was toting, but Dean’s hands still in their movement of securing the ties of the padded base when he hears movement coming from his bedroom. Shit. “Dean?” Cas’s raspy morning voice calls, and Sam whirls around to stare at him. 

Eileen looks at Sam questioningly, and he quickly snaps his attention back to her to sign the situation, but Dean’s gaze is dragged to the hallway where Cas comes to stand in the door frame. “Um. Good morning,” Cas says, and Dean sends up a silent thanks that Cas at least pulled on some boxers.

Dean does a double take when he realizes they’re _his_. 

“Good morning,” Eileen answers, facing Cas with a smirk firmly fixed in place. “So you’re Dean’s new partner, then? Nice to finally meet you; he never shuts up about you.”

Dean glances over at Sam to see him barely containing his laughter, and Dean turns to glare at him fully before facing Eileen so she can read his lips. “Yes, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Sam and Eileen. And we’ve got Robert from here, so you guys can go do your grocery shopping now.”

Eileen straightens up from where she was finishing tying the straps and holds up her hands. “Just keep in mind there are children present.”

Dean scowls at her. “He won’t remember anything, anyway.”

Sam hands over Robert. “ _Please_ don’t have sex in front of my son.”

Dean can’t imagine anything that would be more of a mood killer, but he puts a hand on his chin and says, “Well, if Dean really is his middle name, he needs to start learning now…”

Sam groans as Eileen ushers him out the door. “We’ll be back in an hour!” she calls.

“I wouldn’t say no to brunch!” Sam adds over his shoulder, and Dean smiles and shakes his head before adjusting his grip on Robert and turning back to Cas.

“I’m sorry,” Cas rushes to say when the door shuts, “I didn’t realize… I hope everything’s okay.”

Dean shrugs. “Nah, it’s fine. They know I’m bi, and they were right when they said I haven’t shut up about you, so I don’t think either of them was too surprised.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Gabriel texted me last night to tell me he knew exactly why I didn’t come home. He gives me too much credit for creativity, but he at least gave me some ideas. He also says he thinks he’s figured out how to make little frosting penises, so expect more cake in the future,” Cas says, coming up to Dean and slipping his hand up Dean’s shirt to trail his fingers over Dean’s torso.

“Hey, not in front of the kid!”

Cas smiles and pecks Dean on the lips, holding out his hands for Robert. Dean turns him over, and his chest absolutely does not clench at the sight.

“So, what are you making for brunch?”

-

On Monday, after surviving the most awkward and probing family meal in the history of _ever_ , Dean heads towards the treadmill to complete what is by now his traditional morning run, but Benny stops him. “Is that a _hickey_?”

Dean’s hand flies to his neck. He was a total gentleman to Cas, but—he’s interrupted from his train of thought by Benny laughing.

“That answers that question, then.”

Dean scowls at him. “That’s just mean.”

Benny shrugs. “Hey, you can’t blame me for me being invested; I was the one who had to put up with all the UST every damn day.”

“Pfft, it wasn’t that bad…”

Benny puts his hands on his hips and levels Dean with a glare.

Dean huffs. “Maybe it was a little bad.”

“Try unbearable.”

Dean gapes at him. That’s just plain rude. 

-

Finally, the match that they’ve been waiting for comes around. Their practice with Michael and Lucifer went much more successfully than Dean and Cas’s own derailed practice, but at least Cas helped Dean get some of his tension out, so he’s not going to complain. 

The lights are bright in his eyes, and the roar of the crowd around them is deafening. He’s glad Cas is there to be a steady presence. They face the ramp as Michael and Lucifer peacock to the ring. 

He looks to Cas and exchanges an eye roll with him. Michael and Lucifer eventually duck under the ropes and enter the ring. Dean rolls his shoulders, trying to stay loose.

Lucifer sends him a smirk that seems more real than fake, and Dean bares his teeth back. Michael steps forward and brings the microphone up to his mouth. “You losers ready to lose?”

The crowd boos and jeers, and Dean can’t blame them. Honestly, Dean could do a better job writing their script, and that’s just sad. 

“Is that your new line since you can’t say Losechesters anymore? How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

Lucifer scowls. “I mean, I bet we still could. If I listen hard enough, I think I can hear wedding bells, so a name change can’t be too far off. You swing that way, right, Winchester?”

Dean gapes for a second, at a loss for words. Getting outed on live television was _not_ a part of the script. 

Cas steps up, putting a hand on Dean’s back, and Dean lets it ground him. “Why don’t you stop projecting your insecurities onto us and start wrestling?”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a second, taking a calming breath and trying to slow his heart rate that just ratcheted up to eleven. He exhales as Cas and Lucifer move to their corners. Dean and Michael drop into a crouch, and Dean waits for the bell. He lets out another shaky breath. He can’t believe Lucifer went there. Having his family and friends know about his relationships is a lot different from the whole world, and Dean’s not sure if he’s ready for that. _Shitshitshit._

Dean’s spiral of panic is interrupted by the bell ringing that signals the start of the match. Michael lunges at him, and Dean almost lets himself get dropped because he’s not paying enough attention. 

He ducks under Michael’s outstretched arms and runs to the opposite rope, turning around and bouncing off it, catching Michael in a clothesline that knocks him flat on his back. Dean kneels down on top of Michael, straddling him, and wills himself not to think about his and Cas’s practice match. Dean throws a few punches at Michael’s face and torso before Michael rocks his body and topples Dean off. Dean lands on the mat with a popping in his back.

Michael climbs on top of him, digging his knee into Dean’s gut. Dean grunts, making a show of trying to knock Michael off, but he doesn’t budge. He clocks Dean with a solid punch to the jaw, and Dean stops struggling for a moment, giving Michael the chance to try and pin him. The crowd holds their breath, and Dean kicks out almost before the referee even has a chance to start counting. 

Dean springs back to his feet, pausing to rub at his stomach and circling Michael before diving forward to tackle him. Michael sidesteps, and Dean runs straight into the turnbuckles, turning his head so his nose doesn’t take the worst of it. Somehow, Dean’s managed to avoid breaking his nose this far in his career, and he’d like to keep it that way. 

Dean staggers back from the post, and Michael grabs him from behind, lifting Dean off his feet before flinging him to the ground. Dean tries not to tense up in anticipation of Michael’s next move. It’ll hurt more if he’s stiff, and an elbow to the side is already not exactly a barrel of laughs. 

Michael drops down on him, elbow extended, and Dean cries out, curling in on himself. He manages to get a solid kick landed to Michael’s torso, and he takes the momentary distraction to crawl to Cas and tag him in. 

Cas quickly takes advantage of Michael being on the ground, stomping at him viciously until Michael catches one of Cas’s legs and makes him stumble to the mat. They roll around on the canvas, each one trying to get a leg up on the other, while Dean leans against the post and shouts encouragement to Cas. 

He winces when Michael catches Cas’s arm behind his back and starts to twist it, but Cas wrenches away and counters with a punch to the jaw that knocks Michael down and leaves him reeling. Cas stumbles to the turnbuckles and climbs up, and Dean finds himself holding his breath. Michael is still lying on the ground, panting, and the crowd is screaming at the top of their lungs. Cas looks over at Dean right before he jumps off the top rope, doing a flip in mid air before he lands with a knee on Michael’s torso. Dean whistles appreciatively at Cas’s gracefulness, and even spares a second to feel sorry for Michael because Dean knows first hand how much that shit hurts. 

Cas pins Michael, the ref dropping down next to them to slap out the counts, but Michael kicks out. Cas drags Michael to his feet, but Michael manages to kick Cas’s legs out from under him, and takes the opportunity to dash over to Lucifer and tag him in. Cas does the same for Dean and Dean climbs through the ropes, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he looks Lucifer over. Lucifer dashes towards him, and Dean takes great pleasure in clocking him and knocking him on his ass. 

Dean climbs on top of Lucifer and pushes Lucifer’s leg tight against his chest before throwing himself over Lucifer’s torso to make the pin. Lucifer kicks out almost instantly, and he flips the pin on Dean, so Dean finds himself sitting on the mat with his arms held in an uncomfortable position. 

Dean lets Lucifer hold him in position for a five count, the audience screaming for him to escape, before he gathers his momentum and rolls forward. This flips them so that Lucifer’s back is on the mat, and he kicks his legs wildly, trying to get out. Dean holds him tight, breathing hard as the referee finally makes it to three. The bell rings, signalling his and Cas’s victory, and Dean sags as he starts to come off his adrenaline high. 

Now that the match is over, Dean has a second to think again, and his mind immediately goes to Lucifer’s words from earlier. He doesn’t think the crowd’s energy is any different than what he would expect, and the announcers aren’t speculating wildly. He lets out a shaky breath as he realizes no one took Lucifer’s comment the way his panicked mind had automatically seen it. _Why would they?_ Dean thinks bitterly. It was obvious Lucifer meant it derogatorily, so why would they take it seriously? Dean hates that Lucifer is trying to make this thing with Cas into something he should be ashamed of, and he’s glad he got the chance to deck Lucifer in the face. 

Dean shakes his head and glances at Cas. Cas is shooting him a concerned look, so Dean forces himself to grin and pushes the thought from his mind. He steps forward and wraps Cas in a hug, hoping he can forgive just how sweaty Dean is. 

“You looked really hot out there tonight,” Dean whispers in Cas’s ear.

Cas leans back to look at Dean and cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I think, uh, we should probably do something to celebrate our victory?”

“You do know it was scripted, right?”

“Shh, baby, don’t kill the mood.”

They step back from each other, and the ref presents them with the championship belts before she raises their hands over their heads. 

Michael and Lucifer share twin looks of anger before they slink off the stage, followed by a chorus of “you suck!” 

Dean grins. He’ll take what he can get. 

-

Weeks later find Dean leaning against a wall backstage as casually as he can, forcing himself to remain calm as he begins to speak. “So. We’ve been doing this a while, but we always just end up at my place. How about we, uh, go out tonight?”

Cas holds a hand up to his chest. “Dean Winchester, are you asking me on an actual date?”

Dean jerks his head around to make sure none of the other wrestlers are listening, but he guesses he doesn’t care if they know, anyway. They can keep a secret. Well, except for Lucifer, maybe. Besides, he and Cas have been talking about going public; they just want to wait a little longer before they submit themselves to all the scrutiny that’s sure to follow.

“I suppose I am.”

Cas drags Dean into a supply closet, which has quickly become their favorite spot backstage, and shows Dean just how much he approves of that plan. 


	5. seraph of sexy

The months pass, and Dean enjoys his renewed reign as tag team champion with Cas by his side. 

Dean would call it idyllic, honestly. He gets in plenty of time with Sam, Eileen, Robert, and of course, Cas. Dean is pleased by the way Cas fits so neatly into his little family. Dean hates to be cliche, but it’s really like a piece of him was missing before he met Cas. And great, now he can hear the Sam voice that lives in his head laughing at him. _Thought you couldn’t stand him, Dean?_

Dean loathes being wrong. 

And Cas proves him wrong everyday, even now, when he’s showing Dean a pot that he dry boiled so long, Dean thinks he might have to just trash the whole thing. “I thought I put water in it,” Cas is saying sheepishly, and Dean loves him so much he thinks he might be in danger of his heart giving out. Dean takes the pot and sets it on the counter before tugging Cas into a kiss. Cas goes without resistance, and when they finally break away, Cas leans back and looks at Dean questioningly. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

Dean smiles and shrugs. “Just because.”

“Oooo-kay,” Cas says, “I figured you were gonna be pissed.”

Dean takes a closer look at the pot. “Shit, Cas, that’s my favorite one!”

Now Cas is the one stepping into Dean’s space as he suppresses his laugh. “How will I ever make it up to you?” he asks, trailing a hand down Dean’s chest. 

Dean leans down so that their mouths are a hair’s breadth apart. “You can get to scrubbing.”

He pushes the pot against Cas’s chest and tries not to give into his adorable pout. 

He fails miserably. 

-

Dean fidgets as they wait outside of Crowley’s office. Cas’s hand slipping into his does a little to calm him down, but he still taps his left shoe as he waits. “Why do you think he wanted to talk to both of us together? We normally see him alone.”

“Yes, Dean, I am well aware of the unusualness of the situation. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

Dean gives him a shove in the side. “You know I ramble when I’m nervous! You’re supposed to be nice to me!”

“Where exactly did I agree to that?” Cas asks, but there’s a smile tugging on his lips, and he starts to stroke his thumb on the back of Dean’s hand soothingly. 

There’s the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, and they spring apart right before the door opens. “Ah. Boys, come in.”

Dean squints suspiciously around Crowley’s office, but everything seems to be the same, right down to the picture Crowley has framed with his _mother_ who looks a minimum of ten years younger than Crowley, if Dean’s feeling generous. 

Crowley takes a seat in his leather desk chair and stretches out a hand for them to take their own spots on the uncomfortable modern plastic chairs he keeps for his visitors. 

They make small talk, Cas and Crowley mainly leading the conversation while Dean overthinks. They’ve been found out, someone leaked the nudes Dean sent to his ex ten years ago, they’re both fired; the catastrophizing goes on. He can barely hear Crowley over the pounding of his heart when he says, “You two are finished.”

Crowley looks at their shocked expressions. “Yes, yes, no need to thank me. Since you’ve both complained to me about how utterly insufferable the other is, I figured we’d break up the little lovefest before our fans catch on that we don’t have two happy champs. I think Sam should be able to make a full recovery soon, hmm?”

Dean laughs nervously, his mind racing and mostly delivering back to him a litany of _fuck_ s. “So what happens now?”

“Well, we haven’t hammered out the full storyline yet, but you two will have a falling out, Sam will come defend your honor with a surprise return, and then you’re both going to enter the solo arena. You too, Castiel. I’m sure we can stretch quite a few grudge matches out of this.”

Cas looks to Dean with a mischievous grin. “Insufferable, he called me?”

Of all the things, Cas teasing him is the one that grounds him and brings him back to reality. “That was months ago, Cas! And apparently you said the same thing!”

“Mm,” Crowley says, looking down at his papers and oblivious to Dean sticking his tongue out at Cas, “Well, I’ll let you two know what direction we decide to take this rivalry for sure, but our audience has been hungry for blood lately, so I have a feeling it will be vicious.”

“Is that all you needed?” Cas asks.

“A thank you would be appreciated. After all, now you two won’t have to play nice with each other. In fact, even if you wanted to, you shouldn’t be seen together. Have to keep up appearances, after all.”

Crowley waves a hand, dismissing them, and Cas practically drags Dean out the door. As soon as it swings shut behind them, Cas can’t contain his laughter anymore. 

“Seriously, though, what are we gonna do?” Dean asks. 

Cas frowns. “I don’t know, but we still have plenty of time to make the most out of right now.”

“Well, apparently you don’t even like me, so—”

Cas rolls his eyes and fists his hand into the front of Dean’s shirt, dragging him into a kiss. “You’re right. I can barely stand you.”

-

“I’m not ready for this,” Dean says, sitting in the makeup artist’s chair with Cas to his right, getting his hair artfully tousled. Dean tries not to drool.

“When are you ever ready for anything?”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but that’s—a very good point. Cas reaches over to give his forearm a quick squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. It’s a new part of your career; you should be excited.”

“Change makes me anxious.”

Cas pats the back of his hand as the makeup artist puts the finishing touches on his face and straightens up to proclaim him finished. Dean waits for Cas. 

Dean can practically hear Cas stopping himself from rolling his eyes, and Dean appreciates the effort. 

“I just—I’m happy with the way things are now, Cas.”

Cas looks over at him in a way that makes Dean’s insides squirm uncomfortably. “I know.”

“You’re still going to come over, right?” Dean can see the makeup artists glancing over at each other, and Dean’s sure this gossip is going to be spread all throughout backstage by the end of the night, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“I don’t think anyone is _that_ invested in our personal lives, Dean.”

“Hey, I might have some crazy stalker fans, you never know.”

“You say that like you’re disappointed none have appeared before now.”

“Well, don’t you think I’m worth it?” Dean asks with a shiteating grin.

He’s not prepared for Cas’s sincerity when he replies, “Times a million.”

Dean looks down at the floor and tries to think of the words to say. He swallows hard and grins weakly. “They done with you yet or not? Geez, didn’t know they had to cover up _that_ much.”

Cas shoves at him, making Dean’s grin widen. The makeup artist dusts some more powder onto Cas’s face and pronounces him finished, so they make their way to the wings of the stage. 

There’s still two more matches to go before they’re up, and Dean is sure Cas is content to wait in silence until then, but Dean will implode if he doesn’t get a distraction right this minute. “I still can’t believe the way they’re driving a wedge between us is with a girl,” Dean complains. “Talk about tacky.” 

Cas looks at him fondly. They’ve had this conversation at least a dozen times since Crowley texted them to let them know that their partnership was going to get ripped apart by Bela. When they had rehearsed their lines, Bela had just looked embarrassed, and Dean doesn’t blame her. She had already tried the whole flirting with Cas thing once, and it didn’t exactly turn out the best. Well, for her. For Dean, it turned out pretty fucking spectacularly. 

“Don’t worry, Dean. She means nothing to me,” Cas deadpans.

Dean cracks a grin. “Yeah, better keep telling me that. I just might get jealous.”

Last week, Bela had come out to the ring and hung all over Cas, laying the groundwork for what was going to happen tonight. Crowley told Dean to just look at them longingly, and that was about the easiest acting direction he’d ever been given. Of course, he was supposed to be looking at Bela, but if his eyes wandered over to Cas on occasion, he didn’t think anyone could tell. 

They wait for their entrance music, Dean tapping his fingers against his leg the entire time. Finally, “Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel” plays, which Dean will never not find hysterical when accompanied by Cas’s most serious face. Dean waits for his own song, and it starts to blare right as Cas finishes waving to the fans screaming his name. Dean walks out and gives a wave of his own. He thinks the crowd might have been louder for Cas, and honestly, Dean gets it. They don’t call Cas the Seraph of Sexy for nothing, after all. 

Dean’s not sure who came up with that nickname, but he _is_ convinced they deserve a pay raise, because they hit that nail right on the head. 

They make it to the ring and wait for Walt and Roy to come out. They’re a team that’s going nowhere, but they still have to be beaten by them to advance the plot. Being forced to throw matches is definitely Dean’s least favorite part of his job. He’s a bit of a sore loser. A lot of one, if you ask Sam. 

And so, when their lackluster match is over, and the ref is holding Walt and Roy’s hands over their heads in victory, it’s not hard for Dean to act sour. He levels Bela with a glare, who came ringside to cheer Cas on, and was the scripted reason they lost. Because Cas got “distracted.”

It’s gonna be a shock to everyone when they find out Cas is gay, but that’s a problem for a different day. For now, the issue is somehow convincing everyone that he doesn’t like Cas anymore. Easier said than done, but Dean’s always been up for a challenge. 

The ref appears at his side to hand him a microphone, and Dean holds it up to his mouth. “What the hell, man?” he asks, glaring at Cas and Bela, who has climbed into the ring to run her hands over Cas’s torso to “make sure he’s not hurt.” Dean _really_ doesn’t have to fake his disgruntled look here. 

“What are you talking about?” Cas asks, Bela putting her hands on her hips beside him. She’s probably the best actor out of all of them; Dean would call any of Cas’s scripted lines wooden at best. 

“Her. You just lost us that match because you couldn’t keep your eyes on what you were supposed to be doing! I thought I could count on you.”

Bela’s own mic has appeared. “I guess he just found something better than you, Winchester. No need to be jealous.” She winks. “You might even be able to join in on the fun. What do you think, Castiel?”

“I don’t share,” Cas grates out, looking straight at Dean. 

Dean suppresses a shiver. 

Bela slings an arm over Castiel’s shoulder. “Sorry, Dean. I guess you missed that boat.”

Dean rolls his eyes and looks back at Cas. “So, what? Is this it? Are you choosing her over me?”

Dean can’t even look him in the eyes when Cas says, “I suppose I am.”

Dean knows it’s dumb, knows it’s fake, knows Cas is _gay_ , for fuck’s sake, but it still twists something in his gut to hear him say those words with Bela by his side. 

Dean swallows hard. “Fine. I guess we’re done, then.”

“I guess we are.”

-

They spend the next few weeks avoiding each other on Friday nights, and mostly staying holed up in Dean’s condo at night. They don’t practice together anymore, and Dean finds himself missing it an absurd amount. Benny teases him about it relentlessly. 

A turn in their relationship comes, surprisingly, or maybe not so much when Dean considers the overall trajectory of his life, because of a fart. Cas had made chili with entirely too many beans, even though Dean had _told_ him it was going to give him gas, but Cas had waved him off with a cheerful rendition of one of Dean’s favorite ditties from childhood. 

How could Dean stand in the face of Cas’s gravelly voice and serious face singing _beans, beans, the musical fruit, the more you eat, the more you toot, the more you toot, the better you feel, so eat your beans with every meal_ and not let him do whatever he wants? It’d take a stronger man than Dean, that’s for sure. 

They’re in bed, and Dean has just given Cas reason to regret his supper making choices. Cas looks over at him with an unimpressed glare, so Dean does the only thing he can do. He pulls the blanket up over Cas’s head. He can hear Cas’s indignant gasp, but Dean holds the blanket down tight, even when Cas starts to squirm. 

What Dean fails to account for, however, was the fact that he still can’t out wrestle Cas on a good day, and before Dean knows it, he’s the one that’s suffering underneath the blankets while Cas cackles from above him. Dean flings his elbows out, making Cas let out a soft _oof_ , and Dean uses the momentary distraction to roll them over until he’s on top and the blankets are a tangle at the foot of the bed. 

Dean hovers over Cas, held up by his forearms, and they stare at each other, suspended in the moment. Dean leans down to kiss him, but before he can, Cas blurts out, “I love you.”

Dean is frozen in shock. He’s been so caught up wondering when the right time to say it was that he never considered the possibility of _Cas_ being the first one to say it. 

Dean had already gone through the flood of panic of thinking the whole world knew about him and Cas when he thought Lucifer had outed them, and now that he’s had all this time to marinate in his thoughts, he realizes it might not be so bad if the whole world really did know. He wants to shout it from the rooftops. Hell, at this point he’ll take even being able to be seen with each other in public. 

But now Dean’s lost his chance for all that, and they have to pretend like they hate each other outside the privacy of the little bubble they’ve built. Fuck, Dean is in way over his head. 

“I love you, too.”

-

“I can’t believe I ever liked you, Castiel,” Dean says haughtily the next Friday night, crossing his arms and trying to contain a bubble of laughter as Cas glares back at him, sticking his chin up in the most dramatic way Dean’s ever been privy to. Bela is hanging off of Cas’s arm, so that helps the laughter situation, at least. 

“Well, that goes double for you, Winchester. I’m much better as a solo act.”

Dean’s not so sure. He just doesn’t get the same view of Cas’s spectacular ass when he’s not ringside. He pushes those thoughts away. “Oh, yeah? Well, if that’s so true, you won’t mind setting up a match with me, right?”

Cas raises an eyebrow, and _fuck,_ he’s really giving Dean his bedroom eyes out here for everyone and their mother to see. “You’re on. Two weeks, and I’ll see you back here.”

-

By the time they make it backstage and away from prying eyes, Dean’s dissolved into a fit of laughter. “ _I’m much better as a solo act_ ,” he mocks in a deep voice. 

Cas shoves him. “Shut up. I didn’t start doing this because I’m an actor! I just want to wrestle. I could do without all of their story lines.”

“It’s for the drama, baby,” Dean says, stepping closer to Cas and resting a hand on his bare chest. 

Cas harrumphs. “I smell like perfume now,” he gripes. 

“Well, we can probably do something about that. Once we get home.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow, and a blush blooms on Dean’s cheeks as he registers what he just said. Cas puts his hand over Dean’s. “You know, I wouldn’t mind that. If our home was together.”

“Really?”

Cas leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Dean’s lips. “Yes, really. Don’t look so surprised. Maybe it’s not the best time, right now, though.”

Dean sighs. “How long do you think this is going to last for? It hasn’t even been a month, and I’m sick of it. I don’t want to have to hide this.”

Cas squeezes his hand and looks at him with sad eyes. 

-

After they’re cleared to leave for the night and changed out of their costumes, they make their way to their separate cars, parked on entirely different sides of the parking lot, per Crowley’s orders. _It wouldn’t do for anyone to get a picture of the two of you together outside of the ring_ , he had said, so they begrudgingly comply, even though Cas grumbles about the wasted gas now that they can’t ride together. 

Dean makes his way to the parking lot of his condo, but he can’t force himself to go inside without waiting for Cas. He drums his fingers on the wheel and scans the lot, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s lurking in the shadows waiting to take pictures of him and Cas.

Finally, the headlights of the blue little monstrosity Cas calls a car appears, and Dean steps out of Baby to greet him, rapping his knuckles on the hood as Cas comes to a stop in his parking spot. He waits for Cas to put his abomination into park before he opens the driver’s door. “Wow, what a gentleman,” Cas teases.

Dean has anything but gentlemanly ideas planned for their night, but he lets it slide as he leads Cas through the building and up to the elevator. Cas turns to him with a devious look while they’re going up, and before Dean knows it, Cas is on him and kissing him within an inch of his life. Dean combs his fingers through Cas’s messy hair as Cas presses him against the elevator wall. When it dings, signalling their floor, they pull apart reluctantly. Dean pokes his head out and looks both ways. He sees no one, so he tangles their fingers together and pulls Cas down the hall to his door. Dean unlocks his door with shaky hands, and when it closes behind them, Cas wastes no time in pressing him against it. Cas has a hand down his pants before Dean smells pizza and jerks away from Cas. 

Cas frowns in confusion, but he follows Dean’s stare to where Sam and Eileen are sitting at the kitchen table, Robert in the swing Dean bought for him. Sam looks like he just swallowed a lemon, but Eileen just raises her eyebrows at them. “Don’t stop on our account.”

Sam looks at her, scandalized, before turning back to Dean. “How did you not notice us? We were just sitting here, minding our own business, and then you bang in here and start—” Sam waves a hand. 

“Oh, excuse me for doing what I want in my own house. I didn’t give you my spare key so you could come over and be a perv!” Dean cries. 

“Nice to see you again, Castiel,” Eileen says, and Cas signs back a hasty greeting Dean taught him. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean mutters as he walks forward to open up his cabinets and get down plates and cups. “You better have brought meat lover’s.”

Dean opens up the boxes to see veggies staring back at him and groans. “Really, Sammy?”

“I’m just looking out for your saturated fat intake, Dean.”

“Benny put you up to this, didn’t he?” 

Sam shifts guiltily, and Dean rolls his eyes and turns to Robert, pulling him out of his swing and settling him against his chest. “At least you’re not gonna betray me, right, buddy?”

“That’s a little over dramatic, don’t you think?”

Dean watches as Cas and Eileen eat slices of the pizza with relish. “Definitely not.”

“So,” Sam says quietly.

“What?” 

“You and Cas…”

“What?” Dean asks more defensively this time, bouncing Robert a bit to offset his words. 

“Well, we were expecting just you tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure I can invite over whoever I want, last time I checked. And by the way, you weren’t on the list.”

Sam gives him a skeptical look. “How many times has he been over this week?”

“None of your beeswax,” Dean says, brushing past Sam and handing him Robert to load up his plate with the pizza. He makes sure to grab an extra slice, just to spite Benny. If Benny won’t let him get the best kind of fat from the meat, well, he’ll just have to eat more cheese to make up for it. 

“Just seems like it’s getting pretty serious, from where I’m standing.”

“So what if it is?”

A flash of surprise crosses Sam’s face. “Wow.”

Dean scowls. “Don’t act so shocked, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam counters automatically, before softening. “I’m happy for you. Didn’t know you could talk about commitment without getting hives.”

Dean shoves a slice into his mouth and chews rapidly, before turning to Sam to talk with his mouth full. “Fuck off.”

He looks over at Cas, laughing at something Eileen said, and he thinks that’s something he could definitely commit to more of. 

-

Later, after Sam, Eileen, and Robert have left, Cas is doing his best to make Dean fall apart. Dean would say he’s succeeding. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean gasps as he comes all over their stomachs. 

Cas captures his mouth in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust inside Dean, their hips rolling together. Dean shudders as Cas continues to brush against his prostate, and he lets the pleasure roll down his spine. It’s just the right side of overstimulation. Cas comes before Dean gets too sensitive, filling the condom and pulling out gingerly. 

Cas rolls off of him and lays beside Dean, both trying to catch their breath. Dean’s eyes start to droop now that he’s orgasmed, but Cas nudges him. “I’ll take pity on you tonight.” 

He gets up, and Dean looks after him questioningly, but Cas returns less than a minute later with Dean’s spare sheets in his arms. Dean’s heart swells at the thought that Cas knows where he keeps them, right before he snorts at himself for his ridiculousness and gets up to help change them. After the bed is made, they settle into the middle of it, Cas tucked under Dean’s arm and tracing his fingers over Dean’s hipbone. Dean could live forever in this bubble of domesticity. 

Of course, domesticity doesn’t mix well with having to hate each other, so two weeks later, Dean’s bubble gets popped. He’s quickly coming to dread Friday nights, and he can’t wait until someone decides their rivalry needs to take on a softer edge. For now, though, Dean’s just going to focus on wrestling and figure the rest out later. 

He stares at Cas from across the ring, trying to wrangle his face into something menacing, but judging from the grin threatening to break out over Cas’s face, he’s unsuccessful. Dean hears the announcers speculating about their rivalry and Bela’s relation to Dean, and Dean methodically tunes them out. He catches Bela’s eye from her ringside spot, and she gives him a wink right as the bell rings, starting the match. 

Dean dives right for Cas, aiming for his legs and sending him tumbling to the ground. They roll around together, until Dean ends up on top. He fumbles around, making the motions to get Cas in a choke hold, but Cas breaks free and springs to his feet. 

Dean gets up as well, and they circle each other cautiously. Dean hears Bela’s cheers for Cas filtering over the general din of their audience. Cas rushes forward and clotheslines Dean, slamming him to the ground. Dean croaks out a cough; getting hit in the neck always knocks the breath out of him. Cas kicks at him, and Dean curls up on his side before reaching out a hand and yanking Cas’s leg, sending him tumbling to the mat. Dean scrambles up, using the momentary reprieve to catch his breath as Cas gets back to his feet. 

Dean grips Cas’s hair and shoves him into the turnbuckles, wincing as Cas bounces off and staggers back. He waits for Cas to straighten up before hooking his arm around Cas’s neck and falling down, dragging Cas to the mat with him and landing on top. Dean grabs Cas’s knee and bends it back against his chest, holding him there for two seconds before letting Cas get out of the pin. They both scramble to their feet and look at each other warily. 

Cas gets a foot underneath Dean’s ankle and hooks it, and Dean tumbles to the ground. Dean lays there, waiting for Cas to climb up on the ropes so he can do his signature move. Dean pants on the mat, making a show of being too weak to get up as the crowd roars when Cas stands on the top turnbuckle. Finally, Cas jumps down on top of him, Dean’s legs jerking involuntarily, because as much as Cas isn’t trying to hurt him, it’s unavoidable. Cas pins Dean, making sure his shoulders are pressed down. The referee slides over and starts his count. Dean kicks out at two, getting one of his shoulders off the mat. Cas repositions himself and tries again. This new position has their faces much too close together, and Dean averts his eyes. Cas grins and leans down to whisper in his ear, “How will you ever be able to stand me again after this? I’ll show you insufferable.”

Dean flits his eyes back up to Cas and kicks out of the pinfall again. They had decided they’d do the pin three times before Cas is finally successful, and Cas can’t help the smile that creeps across his face as he meets Dean’s eyes. That’s why Dean can’t stop himself when he leans up to kiss the smug look right off of Cas’s face.

Dean faintly registers the announcers’ wild speculations. “And Winchester tries a technique that we’ve never seen before for getting out of the pin!”

Dean can’t help but smirk even as he continues kissing Cas.

The referee seems confused, but Dean keeps his shoulders on the mat, so he slaps “Three!” onto the mat and the announcers call Cas out as the winner, “Heaven Must be Missing an Angel” blaring over the loudspeakers. Cas seems oblivious to everything as he returns the kiss. Dean can imagine the chaos reigning backstage, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. Cas finally pulls away from Dean, and the realization of what they just did crosses his face.

There’s a brief moment of panic before resignation takes its place. “I didn’t want to hide it, anyway,” he whispers, and Dean breathes a shaky sigh of relief that they’re both on the same page, because who the hell knows what’s going to happen now. He can already feel the heat of the fire Crowley’s going to be breathing down their necks. 

They get to their feet, and Dean takes Cas’s hand as the music swells and changes around them. Dean squints in confusion for a second, because he hasn’t heard the song in almost a year. He breaks out into a grin as Sam appears at the entrance of the ramp. 

“Hey, guys,” Sam says, amusement bleeding through his voice, “I was prepared to come here and defend Dean’s honor, but I guess I’m going to be doing it in a different way than I thought.”

Dean smiles guiltily. “What can I say? We made up.”


	6. epilogue

Cas groans, and Dean looks over to find him staring at his phone with a slightly horrified look on his face. “What’s up, buttercup?” Dean asks cheekily. 

“Don’t make me come over there.” 

Dean gets up out of his seat at their bar and walks over to where Cas is sitting at the kitchen table and sits in his lap. “No need for you to get up.” Dean grins. 

Dean makes a grab for his phone, but Cas pulls it out of reach. “I’ll dump you out of my lap.”

Dean bends down to peck at Cas’s mouth. “You wouldn’t.”

Cas abruptly stands up, leaving Dean to tumble to the ground. “Hey! I’m getting old. You have to be nice to me now,” Dean protests from his spot on the floor. 

Cas raises an eyebrow. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Dean sticks out his tongue before sobering. “For real, what’s the matter?”

Cas tugs a hand through his hair. “It’s just Gabriel being Gabriel,” he says as he hands over his phone. 

Dean looks down at the video playing and frowns. “Not that I don’t appreciate this,” he says, referring to the scantily clad women hitting each other with pillows on the screen, “but I didn’t think this got _your_ motor running?”

Cas rolls his eyes and yanks his phone back. He taps it a few times before handing it back to Dean. 

_so._

_What do you want, Gabriel?_

_cassie, i am hurt and offended that you think i want something. i have something here with only your best interests in mind. it seems to me like your career has been fizzling out lately_

_I’m retired, you ass._

_and i think this could be just what you need to get the spark back._

_ >>1 video attached _

_Gabriel, this is ridiculous._

_three words that are gonna launch you to the hall of fame: lingerie pillow fight_

_This objectifies all these women and undermines their wrestling prowess._

_totally agree, cassie. that’s why they need you to subvert expectations!_

_Don’t hold your breath._

Dean looks up from the screen. “Dude.”

“I don’t understand why he continues to send me things like this. At least this one is wrestling related. I think he missed his calling in the adult entertainment industry.”

Dean makes a face at the mental image those words conjure. “We are totally doing this.”

“What? Absolutely not. I’ll never hear the end of it. And we’re both retired,” Cas adds pointedly. 

Their retirement had been a heated debate, one they talked about what seemed endlessly to Dean. Dean wasn’t ready, but his doctor and Cas had worn him down eventually. He’s so glad he did now. No crazy schedules, diets, or workout regimens, just time he gets to spend with his family, not to mention the time it cleared for them to be more spontaneous. And speaking of spontaneity, “I don’t mean doing it on screen, weirdo. Just us. Lingerie pillow fight.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and nudges Cas in the side. 

Cas hums thoughtfully. “I suppose that would be a sight to see.” 

“Can I pick yours?” Dean asks hopefully. 

“And ruin the anticipation? Not a chance.”

Dean pouts. He’s not sure if that’s more exciting or terrifying. 

-

A few days (and some expensive express shipping) later, Dean fidgets as he adjusts his lingerie. He’s waiting in their bedroom, hoping he doesn’t look as ridiculous as he feels. Dean had chosen to go the route of his wrestling costume, so he’s hoping less is more. He’s also hoping the panties manage to contain his dick at least until Cas is in the room. He’s in the bathroom, and Dean is waiting impatiently. 

He smooths his hands over the lace, picking over the rough purple fabric. He’s not sure how women manage this; Dean had picked a style called cheeky and now he’s convinced they’re determined to give him a wedgie. Dean adjusts them again and lays back on the bed, closing his eyes and trying to get into the right mindset. 

The bathroom door creaks open, and Dean’s breath is taken away. Cas is wearing red stockings, a strappy garter belt, and what looks like a g string. Dean’s not sure if he’ll be able to survive Cas turning around. 

Cas looks like the same thoughts are running through his head, and he clambers onto the bed and straddles Dean, leaning down. 

“No, no,” Dean says, pushing Cas away. “Lingerie _pillow_ _fight_. Just like at girl’s slumber parties.”

“Dean, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think they actually do that.”

Dean pouts. “Well, call it wish fulfillment, then. No sexy times until we have a pillow fight wrestling match.”

Cas rolls his eyes but obligingly lifts a pillow over his shoulder—a feather pillow that Dean had bought just for this occasion. Cas had squinted over his shoulder disapprovingly as Dean picked them out in the store, but Dean doesn’t hear him complaining now. Dean plucks at Cas’s garter belt, and Cas decks him in the face with the pillow. 

Dean pushes him off, sputtering. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?”

“I thought you wanted a pillow fight?” Cas asks innocently. 

Dean hefts his own pillow and hits Cas in the torso with it. Cas stares at him, unimpressed. Dean abandons the pillow and grabs Cas around the middle, forcing him back on the bed. 

Cas rolls them over and leans down to kiss Dean. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules,” Dean observes as he pushes Cas away for a second. 

“Well, I’m just following your lead.”

Dean tugs him back into their kiss. Cas’s fingers play at the waistband of Dean’s panties, and Dean rolls them over again and hooks Cas’s calves over his shoulders so Dean can finally get that view of his ass. 

“Cas, you kinky motherfucker,” Dean breathes, looking at the butt plug nestled between Cas’s cheeks. 

“I haven’t fucked any mothers,” Cas says in mock confusion. 

Dean shoves him right as they both break out laughing. “Look, I might be cool with being on tv every Friday night, but I do not wanna be on an episode of _Sex Sent Me to the ER_. I can’t believe you wrestled me while you were wearing that!” 

Cas scoffs. “We barely did anything. Besides, you say it like it’s the first time.”

Dean gapes. “You are not telling me you’ve worn this when we’ve wrestled before.” 

Cas quirks a brow, and Dean is convinced he is going to spontaneously combust. 

“The t-bar and the fact that it’s made of silicon makes it quite comfortable for extended use,” Cas says earnestly, and Dean can’t stop his snort.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. I don’t need a clinical description.”

Cas just grins and sits up, pulling Dean in for a kiss and shamelessly groping Dean’s lace covered ass. 

“You’re going to fuck me in these, right?” Cas asks. 

Dean swallows hard. “Uh. Yes?”

Cas raises his eyebrows in a _get on with it then_ expression, and who is Dean to question that? 

-

Dean blinks awake to Cas shaking his shoulder, which is odd, because Cas never wakes up before him. 

“Dean, we have our interview today. You have to get up.”

Dean groans and pulls his pillow over his head. He can’t believe he forgot about that. 

“What do they want to talk to me for anyway? I ain’t exactly a role model.”

Cas frowns, giving Dean his big doe eyes that put Sam to shame. “That’s not true.”

Dean melts in the face of Cas’s look and the hand resting lightly on his chest, but he still grumbles as he gets up. 

His foot brushes across his crusty panties ( _gross)_ from the night before, and when he looks up, he sees Cas staring at him hungrily. “And you didn’t want to do it. You’re welcome,” Dean says. 

“Yes, thank you for your one good idea, Dean. You’re a genius.”

Dean sticks out his tongue. “Damn right.”

Dean walks to their closet and blindly picks out one of his suits. Cas comes up and hugs him from behind, mouthing along the nape of Dean’s neck. Finally, he steps back and Dean turns to face him, disappointed that Cas has already tugged on his boxers. Cas holds out a red tie. “I like this one.”

Dean shrugs and takes it, stepping into his slacks and shrugging on a t-shirt. He puts on his dress shirt, and Cas buttons it for him. Dean raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”

“This is a lot more fun.”

Dean can’t argue with that, especially when Cas loops Dean’s tie around his neck and tugs him forward into a kiss. 

-

“So, Dean and Castiel, what does it feel like to have your relationship get its start on the stage?” the reporter asks them, and Dean’s mind goes completely blank. There’s a reason he always has a script. 

“Well, it’s like every relationship, but one partner just has a lot less impulse control,” Cas laughs.

Dean gapes for a second, but the reporter pushes into her next question without giving him time to respond. “Tell us about being a same sex wrestling couple. Was it hard?”

Dean barely stops himself from making an innuendo, and judging by Cas’s elbow in his side, Cas knows it. Dean takes a second to gather his thoughts that aren’t ragingly inappropriate. “We’re grateful to everyone who’s come before us to make this not as difficult as it might have been,” Dean says seriously. “There’s been LGBTQ+ wrestlers who have been out for a long time, and it’s because of them that we were able to be as open as we have been.”

Cas nods along with him, and Dean tunes out, leaving Cas to answer the next question. 

Eventually, they ask them about their plans now that they’re in retirement, and Cas looks to Dean to answer. “Oh, the usual retirement things. Wondering what I have to do before my husband will bring me breakfast in bed.”

Cas rolls his eyes at Dean. “He’s insufferable, really, I don’t know why I put up with it.”

Dean winks at the reporter. “I could come up with a few reasons.”

Cas blushes, the tips of his ears turning red. Dean hopes he’s thinking about last night. Cas clears his throat. “He does make incredible burgers. That might be why.”

Dean grins at the camera before slinging an arm around Cas’s shoulder. “Aw, he loves me.”

“Yes, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're awesome for reading!
> 
> thank you once again to nickelkeep for their amazing art! Make sure you check [it](https://nickelkeep.tumblr.com/post/634582731063427072/dcbb-art-masterpost) out and give them some love!
> 
> If you're looking for something to read next, you can check out DarcyDelaney's dcbb right [here,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143465/chapters/66286802) and you can find me on tumblr [here!](https://contemplativepancakes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> finally, if you feel so inclined, your kudos and/or comments would really brighten my day :D thanks for reading!


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